Shades of Gray
by Lunar Mist
Summary: She was spoiled, a Seeker living it large with her trine. Then it all changed. Embroiled in a war not her own, she quickly gets lost in the dark plot of a war where black and white no longer exist. Inspired by Alathea2's Turning Points. Not the same plot. Sporadic updates.
1. Prologue

1) I apologize to all of you that started reading the last story I put up. I took it down for personal reasons, and I will not be publishing the rest of it because...

2) A few months back, I spoke of writing my final story on this site. This was the story I was talking about. I fully plan on this fic being my last, with two exceptions and _maybe_ a third one. I've been writing on another story that I feel some people would enjoy(something I started a few days ago when I was kind of down about my imminant departure from the site), and I desire to publish that one as soon as I can. I am also writing a Christmas special that will be out around the 24th of December (started typing Decepticon there) The third one is a maybe because I'm not sure I like where I'm going with it, so I might just cut it out completely and move on with life. This is, however, the beginning of the end for me on this site.

3) I will strive to finish GaGS, as I have an idea where I want that one to go, but I do not expect to finish A Spark's Haven. I'm debating taking that one down altogether, but that is a decision for another day.

4) The basic idea behind this fic came from **Alathea2**'s "Turning Point." I have received her permission, but I can assure you that my fic will differ greatly from hers.

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Prologue

470 words

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It was a city-state of secrets, a city-state forbidden to other Cybertronians. A city-state in the sky inhabited by beings none other understood. The city-state was known as Vos, and its inhabitants were known as "Seekers," named for their ability to find anything they sought out. The flying Cybertronians in the city-state differed from every other flying Cybertronian, though only the Seekers knew and understood those differences for certain. The race, for the most part, was a complete mystery to the outside world. There were rumors, of course. Rumors of savage behavior and animalistic instincts, but no one of these had been proven true or false, and honestly, the Seekers liked it that way.

However, if one were to actually _visit_ the city-state, they would find that the red-optic beings were not that different than themselves. They lived and laughed and loved the same way they did. The Seekers felt sadness and loss same as they did. True, there were key differences between the race and the rest of Cybertron, and the Seeker society and culture was vastly different than that of most other city-states as they governed themselves rather than taking commands from the High Senate Council, but the beings themselves acted much the same, if one could excuse their extreme superiority complexes. You see, since the very beginning of their culture, Seekers had looked down on ground-bound Cybertronians for being confined to the planet. They even sneered at other non-Seeker flyers, saying that normal flyers could not appreciate the sky like they could, and in a way, perhaps that was correct. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why the other Cybertronians disliked the Seekers so much.

The city itself was an architectural masterpiece. Large, artfully built buildings lined the city-state, each varying in height and area. Niches and "perches" were built into the buildings so that tired Seekers could land for a short time to rest after a long flight across the city-state. Every building had "landing pads" that gave younger, clumsier flyers more room to land, as very few Seekers actually entered a building through the door on the ground.

Perhaps what gave the city its true beauty, however, were its occupants. No matter the time or the cycle, one could always see Seekers flitting around the city. Whether they were heading to work or to their housing units or playing a simple game of chase, a Seeker always looked graceful in the air. It was like watching a dance in the sky, and it was a sight that never got old. The Seekers were also known for their large array of color, which only added to the city's grandeur. It was like the city glowed during the solar cycle and lived during the lunar cycles.

Then, like all good things, it burned to the ground.

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Short, but it's just the beginning. This fic will be updated every Friday, and you need not concern yourselves with me taking this one down. I don't know how long this one will be, only that it will likely run as long as TaCO did. Review, peeps, and expect another update next Friday! :)


	2. Chapter 1

1) Before you question whether she's a MAry-sue, read all the way through and read the bottom notes.

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Chapter 1

8,248 words

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"Dewdrop! I need another high grade over here!"

"Primus, Quality, I know! I heard you the last six times! Give me a klik to finish mixing it!"

"He wants it plain!"

"That's not what he told me!"

"Fraggit, femme!"

"Fraggit, mech!"

Two Seekers, one mech and one femme, glared at each other while the bots nearest them laughed. Slidewing's Oilhouse was well-known in Vos. Between the amazing energon and the sweet, yet feisty bar femmes that served it, Slidewing's had gained a great reputation amongst Seekers and the good patronage that went along with that. There wasn't a single beginning lunar cycle where Slidewing's was empty, and even during the solar cycles, trines often came to Slidewing's during mid-cycle refuels to relax.

Slidewing's Oilhouse was run by a trine leader by the designation Slipshot, who had named the place after his third who had died in some freak accident. The elder mech was not seen very often, as he was normally in the back office dealing with energon imports, debt upkeep, and tab collection. Quality, his second, ran the bar floor. Though he was employed as a watcher, one who makes sure the employees and other femme customers aren't harassed, he was known for nosing in on the employees' jobs and trying to get them to work faster, even if this was not possible.

The employees themselves had learned long ago how to deal with Quality, and they each dealt with him in their own ways. Kip, a mid-generation femme trine leader who had helped Slipshot start the place, simply ignored him, continuing her serving job as if he had never activated his vocalizer. Rifflock, a newer hire who served as her trine's third, normally gave a nervous affirming answer and worked faster to complete her task. Dewdrop, however, was another story.

Dewdrop had worked in another oilhouse in Southeast Vos before working at Slidewing's, and she would still be working there had her trine not needed to transfer to the other side of the city. Her trine leader, Wingspot, worked in the palace as a guardsmech for Starscream himself, assisting sometimes with the prince's science projects when needed, and her second, Aerobatix, worked as a courier, a job that was rather enviable and given only to the fastest Seekers that could be found. Dewdrop, unwilling to traverse across the city-state every single solar cycle, had opted to apply for a new job. With extensive experience mixing exotic energon cubes and serving rowdy construction Seekers, Slipshot had hired her quickly. He had thought that her being there would make the work load easier, and while he was right, Quality didn't quite agree.

Dewdrop's bar was located on the top floor – the second floor – right beside the indoor balcony the hung over the bottom floor, giving Seekers the option to fly up rather than use the stairs. Her bar counter was basically a large circle, and inside was a smaller circular counter with a sink, storage, and a special energon dispenser for low grade – just in case one of the bots that came in had an intolerance. In between the circles was a circular isle that gave Dewdrop just enough room to move around without feeling claustrophobic or having to worry about hitting her wings on anything. At the moment, only half of the seats surrounding the bar were filled, meaning that Dewdrop could actually help the serving staff if she wanted to. However, it took a _lot_ to get her to come back from behind her bar.

"Femme, I hired you to serve these mechs efficiently and swiftly!" Quality snapped, his bright red wings stiff with anger. Dewdrop's baby blue wings twitched in agitation as crimson optics met garnet optics.

"Slipshot hired me to mix cubes. Seeing as you can't do _that_, maybe you should serve these mechs instead," she snarked back.

"They don't want a mech to serve them!"

"That sounds like a personal problem!"

"If you weren't so good, I'd fire you!"

"Then it's a good thing I'm good otherwise you wouldn't have any customers!"

Though the exchange was loud, none of the customers paid it any mind. This was a common occurrence at Slidewing's. Even though Quality and Dewdrop had a strange sort of respect for each other, they always found something to argue about. Dewdrop did not take orders from anyone outside her trine very well, and Quality was used to having thirds obey his orders, seeing was he was a second himself. As such, obedience was often the thing they argued over.

"Dewdrop! Mix me an Iaconian Spice Cube!" a Seeker mech seated at the bar yelled, trying to be heard over the music and sound of mechs shouting.

"Coming right up! Kip, give this cube to that gentlemech by Quality!" Kip grinned as she trotted over to Dewdrop, red armor glinting in the pale lighting of the bar.

"You should talk to that mech in the back corner. He's been asking about the beauty that mixes the energon," Kip advised with a sly smile. She put the cube on her small tray before making her way through the crowd to the mech in question.

Dewdrop gave a barely heard sigh as she got to work on the next order. She had gotten used to such mechs asking about her a long time back. It was strange to see a femme mixing energon. Energon mixing was a rather difficult skill to acquire, mainly because figuring out what would make energon taste better rather than worse was an ingrained skill that most mixers were born with, and it was not something that could be learned or taught. Seekers like these, those known as Energon-Sensitive, ones that could mix—and most times locate—energon, were rather hard to come by, meaning there were few pubs and bars that had constantly changing menus. Slidewing's, thanks to Dewdrop, was one of those few bars that a Seeker could go to every solar cycle and never have the same cube twice if desired, and that was something Slipshot and Quality made sure all of Vos knew.

Another drinking song rose up in the background as she worked on the Iaconian Spice Cube. This was what she loved the most about working in an oilhouse: the atmosphere. Everyone was happy and joyful. No matter what happened in the outside world, everyone could come to Slidewing's and get lost in the carefree and accepting atmosphere. Her original energon cubes and the pre-packaged energon in a can served as soothing balms for the every-cycle problems that seemed to be rising up from the total peace that was the Vosonian society. The attacks on the Taran-Vosonian border grew less important, and the slowly rising Seeker-energon crisis grew dim. Seekers didn't have to worry about abandoning the city-state while they were at Slidewing's. All they had to worry about was which energon mix they wanted and where they wanted to park their tired bodies until the ending lunar cycle. Slidewing's was large enough to fit about two hundred mechs and femmes, so whole trines could come without worrying about having to squeeze together, and mechs and femmes always tended to run into someone they knew there.

It was the perfect unwinding environment, and Dewdrop couldn't have asked for a better job.

"One Iaconian Spice Cube!" Dewdrop announced as she sent it sliding down the bar toward the mech that had asked for it. He didn't hesitate in catching it and taking a good swig.

"Perfect, as always, Dew," he responded before turning back to his trine mate who had been speaking with him.

**/Starscream finished Glamour's diagnostic. He says that whatever's wrong is a programming glitch, so we'll have to just deal**_**./**_ Wingspot's calm presence filled her spark as he spoke to her through their trine bond. If he was close enough to connect through a bond, then he must be—

"On my way?" Wingspot questioned with a smile as he seemed to appear at the bar in front of Dewdrop. Dewdrop's spark sang as her trine leader sat down in the seat in front of her. He was the most handsome mech in Vos—at least, that's what Dewdrop believed. His armor was a polished silver, flashy yet modest, and each of his wings bore a single black stripe across the top, a black stripe that was mirrored by navy blue ones on Dewdrop's wings. He was easily taller than her, beating out her height of twenty-five feet with his thirty-three. His helm was the typical palace guard design, lacking any form of embellishment at all. The armor plates on his shoulders were black, along with his fingers, which tapered down into claws for protection reasons. And in his hands were Glamour and Gizmo.

"Starscream says they're both perfectly healthy and can go back to work. He just suggests you don't let Glamour carry anything… well, fragile," Wingspot stated as he put the two spark-drones down on the bar counter on their backs. Dewdrop grinned as she stepped forward and activated the two drones' onlining protocols.

Gizmo was the first to online, as per usual, and his red optics immediately focused on Dewdrop as he sat up. A frown appeared on his faceplates as he checked his internal chronometer and realized that her shift was almost over. This meant that he had been with Wingspot all cycle, which meant that Dewdrop hadn't had anyone to assist her in her work. Seeing as Gizmo's main objective in life was to assist Dewdrop, the lack of work frustrated him, but he ignored those emotions in favor of speaking to his mistress.

"Mistress, do you need assistance?" he inquired. Dewdrop smiled at the navy blue spark drone. Gizmo was a stoic little drone, caring only about his mistress and her worries. Like his sister, Glamour, he was created by Starscream and Wingspot, though Wingspot dealt with the body more than the programming. The drones were created to be four feet tall, and both had the frame of mini-Seekers, right down to the little jetpacks and wings on their backs. They both had thrusters on their pedes to help them steer their own bodies, and while Gizmo had successfully mastered use of these thrusters, Glamour was still learning.

"Not at the moment, Gizmo. Reattach until further instruction is given," she responded. Gizmo nodded evenly and activated his jetpack to fly up to Dewdrop's shoulder. He activated his transformation cog and latched onto her shoulder as he took on the appearance of additional shoulder armor. Dewdrop glanced down at that shoulder as she activated a secondary transformation cog to lock him in place and give him access to her systems. A small number of her nanites were absorbed into his body as he hardened his external plating and matched its composition to Dewdrop's armor. She had to give Starscream this: he was a genius when it came to thinking outside the metaphorical box.

Glamour was always the last two online. Her systems lagged as she slowly brought her processor online. Bleary red optics onlined and stared straight up as her other systems went through the check-okay process that always occurred after another diagnostic. Not that she minded; it gave her a reason to lounge for a little longer. She lethargically sat up as her final systems finished the lengthy process, and once her last system checked out, it was like a switch was thrown. The baby blue drone jumped off the counter as she activated her jetpack and flew around Dewdrop's helm three times while yelling, "Dew! Dew! Dew! Dew!" in her highly-pitched voice. On her last round, she seemed to lose control of her flight systems. She gave a small squeal of slight terror as she careened into Wingspot's chest, which she rebounded off of, and landed with a small crash on the counter where she had started.

"Good joor, Glamour," Dewdrop greeted with an amused smile. Glamour jumped to her pedes and gave Dewdrop a sharp salute.

"Reporting, mistress!" she exclaimed. Dewdrop smiled softly at her more air-headed drone.

"Starscream finished your diagnostic and found nothing wrong. Apparently, your lack of coordination is not to do with your frame or guidance systems. He said it is something you'll have to overcome on your own," Dewdrop informed the femme drone. Glamour's whole body sagged.

"Oh," she said in a disappointed tone. Dewdrop smiled sadly at the femme before giving her an order similar to her brother-drone's. Glamour flew up to Dewdrop's left shoulder and transformed onto it, the baby blue contrasting to her right mirror's navy blue.

"Did Aero say when he was going to get here?" Dewdrop asked as she glanced up at Quality to make sure he was still busy.

"Dew, give me a Kaon Punch to finish me off," a mech requested as he walked past.

"Coming up!" she responded as she pulled out a new cube of high grade.

"No. He said that he was on his way, though," Wingspot answered her question as he pulled a cube of reg-grade energon from his subspace. Without being asked, Dewdrop reached over and dropped a pinch of copper and another pinch of zinc into his cube before continuing with the Kaon Punch she had been working on.

"He said something about bad news when he sent me the comm," Dewdrop reported with a frown.

"Same here. I'm worried it's the same bad news Starscream was mumbling about all cycle," Wingspot said lowly as he sipped on his cube. Dewdrop frowned, optic ridges furrowing together as she finished the brew.

"Kaon Punch!" she announced as she slid it down in the bar. "What has Starscream to be worried about?"

"I'm not sure," Wingspot admitted, his voice not hiding his obvious anxiety, "but it's enough to have the whole guard on their thrusters."

"Do you think it's Tarn? I heard they invaded another one of our energon deposits," Dewdrop noted. Wingspot shook his helm.

"No. Starscream stopped that invasion before it even started. No, I've heard rumors of a war on the ground, two factions that are going at it. Apparently, it's getting to be really big," the silver mech stated as he cradled his cube close. Dewdrop hummed as she thought about that.

Just as Vos was cut off from the ground, so were her people cut off from the rest of Cybertron—something that Seekers in general enjoyed. They liked not having to deal with the drama of the ground-bound Cybertronians. In honesty, Vos was a sort of paradise, a Utopia that only Seekers could visit. They did not allow outsiders into the city without guards, and the few dignitary visitors they had were treated with extreme prejudice—and why shouldn't they be? Vos was a world of its own. The energon was a special kind that allowed Seekers to refuel once a day. On regular energon, the kind that ground-bound and normal flying Cybertronians used, a Seeker would only last a joor or two, and in reverse, a ground-bound Cybertronian could last up to six solar cycles on Seeker energon. Seekers preferred to use mini-cubes to refuel a couple of times a day, and each of their mini-cubes was worth at least three regular sized grounder-cubes, and Seekers had one every few joors!

Their society was formed so that no bot went hungry. Every bot had a job, and they understood that they had to go to that job in order to eat. The sick were cared for until they were healthy again, and the weak were boosted by the strong. They were a city-state that supported itself; why would they want ground-bound Cybertronians to come in, corrupting their culture, taking in their energon, and selling Seeker wares for higher prices? No, they preferred to keep their city-state closed off to outsiders, scaring bots with vicious attitudes, rude actions, and terrifying rumors. It was better this way.

However, that went both ways. Dewdrop only knew about Praxus because of the datas she had read in the library. She knew of Iacon because Wingspot mentioned it once before. Apparently, Starscream did not like Sentinel Prime who resided in Iacon and had mentioned his dislike to Wingspot while they dithered around in his lab. She knew of Kaon because of how many military builds were there. The only thing she really knew about general grounder society is that it was broken down into castes and ruled by the High Senate Council. She knew that military builds were apparently at the very bottom of the caste chart, something that made no sense to her. There were no castes in Vos, and every bot had red optics and whatever build they desired. At the moment, armor was at the height of Vosonian fashion, and it took a fair amount of credits to afford it. Wealth and prestige was shown by living areas, paint jobs, and aesthetic frame upgrades. Retractable claws, for instance, showed wealth. Any guardsmech or warrior was equipped with claws, but rarely could they retract those claws into rounded digits. Such an action required a specific transformation cog, one that was small, hard to make, and took a lot of time to install.

"I don't understand, though. What does a grounder's war have to do with us? Tarn is the only city-state elevated enough to reach us, and even then, they have trouble breaching our border," Dewdrop noted as she began cleaning up.

"I couldn't tell you. I'm hoping Aero can shed some light on this," Wingspot admitted as he watched his third seal up her ingredient cases. Dewdrop frowned as she put the sealed cases in her subspace.

"Wing, you don't think those grounders could actually… _attack_… do you?" she asked, her incredulity and a fair bit of amusement showing in her voice.

"As impossible as it may seem, I actually do." Dewdrop grinned as she rolled her optics.

"Wingspot, this is _Vos_. Nothing can touch us," she stated, crimson optics glinting in amusement as she pulled a rag from under the counter and started wiping down the bar of spilled energon. "Besides, anything that _does_ reach us will be brought down by the warriors."

"And if we don't know of the attack?" Wingspot asked, finally voicing his inner worries. Dewdrop frowned, stopping her action as she gazed at her trine leader.

"Wingspot, nothing is going to happen. They're _grounders_. With all that dust stuck in their processors, I doubt they could successfully coordinate a surprise attack," she claimed, looking the mech in the optics so that he could see her surety. "Anyways, the only way they could approach us would be through Tarn, and we've got them covered," she added confidently. Wingspot allowed himself a smile, but Dewdrop could tell that it wasn't a true one. His side of the trine bond was a roiling mess of anxiety, anger, and a strange sense of foreboding.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asked lowly as she examined him through the bond.

"Dew, I don't really want to talk about it now. Whatever happens, the Command Trine and the warriors will take care of it. For now, finish getting ready to go home."

Dewdrop frowned at him but obeyed his order without question, easily acknowledging that as trine leader, he knew best. She was systematic in her cleaning habits when dealing with her bar. She deliberately wiped down every inch of the long bar counter before dropping the rag in the sink behind her to be cleaned off later. She then grabbed a particle cleaner from underneath the bar and started sucking up any metal shavings or energon-enhancers that might have spilt during her shift. She didn't want to have deal with Quality if he came behind the bar and ended up having shavings on his pedes. The mech could be such a drama king sometimes. The cleanup only took maybe a breem, and she finished up by locking up the high grade in the pub's air-tight Cybertonium vault. She turned back to her trine leader and gave him a bright smile.

"All done here!" she announced, raising her arms a bit to gesture to her work area. Wingspot smiled back as he stood from the barstool.

"Then let's jet. Aero commed me. Said he'd meet us halfway," the silver mech stated as he started making his way around the tables, easily avoiding the few straggling customers. Most were being ushered to the outside balcony on the second floor by Quality, while others were prodded along by Kip to the door on the first floor. Dewdrop waved goodbye to a customer before hauling herself over the bar and following her trine leader toward the balcony located on the second floor, the same floor as her bar. The elder mech paused as she stepped up beside him, and they moved through the nearly invisible sound-trapping force field together.

Without the force field blocking the noise, Dewdrop was treated to the general sounds of the city, sounds that she had grown to love. The most prevalent sounds in the area were the loud whine of turbines and the roars and hums of thrusters as the city's occupants rushed around the skyscape, weaving around tall towers and barely buzzing the streets. In a grounder's city, this would probably be viewed as annoying, but Seekers took it as it was: a way to say "hello" to the Seekers walking on the ground. The other sounds of the city subtly filtered in. A street vendor advertised his wares as he made his way back home. A youngling called out cheerfully to his creator when he saw something in a window that he wanted. A femme squealed in surprise when her trine mate suddenly grabbed her and hugged her close before both of them broke out in laughter.

It was always the same in the Selling District of downtown Mideast Vos. The people were always cheerful. The vendors were always overly confident and outgoing. The younglings were always begging for something they saw. It was always the same, positive atmosphere, and to Dewdrop, that was the most comforting thing in the world: the knowledge that things would always be this way. Yes, life in North Vos was difficult due to Tarn and her leader, and yes, the war that the ground-living Cybertronians were fighting was apparently beginning to grow exponentially, but all that seemed inconsequential. No matter what happened, Mideast Vos would remain the same. No fighting could reach this area as the only way to access it—or any part of Vos, bar the northern border—was through Vos herself.

"C'mon. We gotta meet up with Aero, remember?" Wingspot stated with a small smile as he pulled his third from her thoughts. He knew that the threat of war weighed heavily on her processor sometimes, especially at times like these, when Taran warriors threatened their way of life. He made a mental note to take her and Aero out on his next offcycle when Aero wouldn't have to work. Their trine could benefit from some together time.

With that thought logged, Wingspot leapt off the balcony and activated his transformation sequence. The sound of gears moving and metal meshing filled the air around them as his bipedal frame folded and twisted into the form of a bulky warrior-class jet. The body of the jet was silver, one only difference being the black nosecone and the single black stripe on each wing. The transformation process, while intricate, only lasted a few moments, and the second the last part slipped in place, the jet activated its thrusters and shot off.

Dewdrop grinned as she followed Wingspot's lead, leaping off the second floor balcony after him and activating her own transformation cog. Baby blue armor shifted around in an organized mess of gears and metal as her body compacted down into a stealth-style Seeker frame. Her thin delta wings twisted around so that they faced the correct way as her cockpit rose from her chest plating to form the long nosecone of her thin, streamlined alt mode. Her main thrusters activated, and she immediately shot off in the direction her trine leader had taken, easily catching up with him as she took her designated spot on his left as they expertly navigated the city.

There was nothing that could compare to flying in formation with one's trine leader. All her systems were attuned to the bond, every action and movement a mirror of her leader's. Loops, barrel rolls, and speed bursts were easy to follow and copy, the two bots so attuned to each other. Dewdrop actively sent her joy through her trine bond to the two she was forever connected to, and she could feel Wingspot's identical enjoyment of their flight, along with his amusement and love.

Then Aerobatix arrived.

A loud whoop and a sense of mischievousness was Dewdrop's only warning before her form was tackled from the air. Deep purple arms wrapped around her nosecone as a large mech hugged her from above, both of them still flying forward at a rather slower rate, Dewdrop's flight path controlled completely by the mech accosting her.

**/Fraggit, Aero!/** she yelped through the bond. The only response was an unrepentant laugh and a surge of love and joviality.

**/I win, Dew!/** he announced. Dewdrop growled irritably as she pointedly started spinning in the air in an attempt to dislodge her trine's second. Aero only grinned as he held on tightly.

**/Aerobatix, quit messing with Dewdrop or I'll let her sic Kip on you next solar cycle./** The threat, backed by the commanding tone of the trine leader, easily garnered Aero's obedience. He gave an overdramatic huff and released Dewdrop just as she prepared to drop into a corkscrew. Aero twisted a few times in the air before transforming. He folded down into a royal purple speed jet that held a single lavender stripe on each wing. His design was streamlined, and his whole jet frame was thin to make cutting through air easier.

**/Primus, you're such a sparkling/** Dewdrop muttered irately as she drifted back into formation.

**/Says the whining femme/**Aero shot back playfully. **/Is it safe for you to be flying after dealing with so much high-grade? You don't feel dizzy, do you?/**

**/Frag you, Aero. I can hold my energon way better than **_**you**_** can, and **_**that's**_** saying something./** Dewdrop hissed, though her amusement flowed through the bond easily.

**/Ouch. Cyberkitty has claws/**

**/You **_**bet**_** I do, and you better watch it or your energon will taste **_**strange**_** later/** the femme threatened, though the words held no real bite.

**/That's enough, you two. We're almost to our abode/** Wingspot broke in.

**/Killjoy/** Aero pouted.

**/You'll understand when you're older/** Wingspot responded with amusement.

**/Yeah, Aero. You'll get it when you're not a sparkling/**

**/Frag off, Dewdrop/**

**/That's enough/**

The bond went silent as the trine approached their housing unit. In olden times, Seekers lived in the catacombs underneath Vos, and most trines still had "nests" in crevices or caves on the cliffs around the city. However, once the city started building upwards, most Seekers began looking for housing units, or "abodes," that had amenities, such as running solvent racks, energon processors, and open access to the sky. Wingspot was one such trine leader that desired such for his trine. They still had a nest in a cave on the Southeastern cliff, and they would go there if there was ever an emergency, but there was no denying the easy access of the abode they purchased.

It was a humble abode, the uppermost housing unit in a large building. It was ten stories up, and had a single landing perch that led to the living room. The living room then branched off to a large berthroom, a washrack, and a kitchen. Simple, yet it was home.

Wingspot was the first to land, transforming into root mode as he touched down on the flat landing perch. Aero was next, followed closely by Dewdrop. Wingspot, ever the trine leader, stayed behind to help Dewdrop stabilize while Aerobatix sauntered off. The blue femme gave Wingspot an appreciative smile as he guided her to the perch by her hand, and the two walked into the housing unit together to find Aero sipping a cube of reg-grade. His optics met Dewdrop's, and he wordlessly held out his cube to her.

"You can't even _ask_ anymore?" she huffed as she took her hand from Wingspot's grasp and strode toward her second.

"I shouldn't have to. It's a _ritual_," Aero said with a grin as he watched Dewdrop sprinkle steel shavings and rust particles into his energon to give it a sweet, tangy taste. Dewdrop rolled her optics, but still gave her second an affectionate smile, mainly because he was telling the truth.

"So what have you heard?" Wingspot questioned, his optics fixed on his second in command. Aero tensed as he returned the gaze.

"They're called the Decepticons and the Autobots. The war is over getting rid of the ground-pounders' caste system. From what I can see, military caste make up the Decepticons, and the Autobots are made up of science and medical caste. Strictly lower- and upper-class fight from what I can see. The middle castes seem to be avoiding the conflict," he reported. Wingspot frowned.

"So city-states like Praxus and Helix—"

"Are completely avoiding the fighting. They'll take in any injured, but they don't take sides," Aero finished. Wingspot hummed as he strode to a chair across the room and seated himself. Dewdrop glanced at Aero before following her leader and taking a seat on the couch perpendicular to the chair.

"That will make the two factions angry," Wingspot noted.

"Yeah, but if it's a war for the people, don't you think the two factions will try to keep from hurting innocent people?" Aerobatix asked as he sat down on the couch beside his third. Wingspot sighed heavily.

"I couldn't say. War is not civilized, and you can guarantee that there will always be collateral damage and unnecessary deaths. Even then, I could not say. How long has it been since Cybertron has experienced a civil war?" the leader asked rhetorically. Aerobatix hummed in thought at that statement.

"Yeah, but the Guard will protect us, right? I mean, if Shockwave and his ilk can't hurt us, then surely a bunch of worthless grounders can't either," Dewdrop broke in as she pulled a cube of mid-grade.

"You assume too much of them, Dew," Wingspot stated as he watched her drop a heavy helping of iron pyrite and rust into her cube of energon. "I understand that grounders are not like us—"

"Not like us?" Dewdrop broke in with a snort. "Wing, grounders are stupid, held back by their ridiculous castes. Primus, how many brilliant mechs must hide their abilities because they are in a low caste? On top of that, _why_ would a mech decide to have wheels or hover tech when they could have wings and thrusters? It's illogical!" Dewdrop exclaimed, bringing up the trine's age-old argument. While Wingspot was willing to tolerate grounders, his third had rejected them completely, partially because of their fear of the sky and partially because of how grounders viewed Seekers. Grounders were scared and prejudiced towards Seekers, and in Dewdrop's mind, the feelings were mutual.

"Dewdrop," Wingspot began with a sigh, but the femme cut him off.

"No. You've had experience dealing with Shockwave. How can you support still like them?" she questioned furiously. She had friends who had been killed in the Taran-Vosonian skirmishes. It was for that reason that Dewdrop would never be able to bring herself to forgive them. Apparently, though, her trine leader was more than happy to, no matter how much Dewdrop reasoned with him, and… she wasn't going to get into this argument again. "You know what? I'm gonna go visit Airstream. I don't feel like having this conversation again," she stated flatly as she placed her energon on a convenient table and stood. "_She_, at least, is not a ground-pounder sympathizer."

"Dewdrop, you can't hate grounders forever. Not when you may very well end up dealing with them soon," Wingspot stated simply as he watched her walk to the balcony landing spot.

"Ha! When am I ever going to come in contact with a ground-pounder? And don't say that Vos might get involved with their ridiculous little war."

"You cannot hate them just because they are different," Aerobatix interjected hesitantly.

"Oh, _Primus_, not you _too._ Please tell me you're not about to take Wing's side on this. Just two cycles ago, you were going on and on about how much you hated the fraggers," Dewdrop stated. Aerobatix frowned.

"Yeah… but then I met one. Taran bots aren't as bad as we thought. I met this mech named Bulkhead and—"

"No! I don't wanna hear about your ground-bound misadventures. I'm out," Dewdrop snapped, and her trine mates watched in bemused silence as she transformed and streamed away.

* * *

Two breems later found Dewdrop and Airstream at a higher class energon café that Airstream would not have been able to patronize without her friend's presence. While Vos was not separated by caste, some places still held high standards for their customers. For instance, when Dewdrop was in East Vos, she visited a certain club that only allowed for bartenders, bar servers, and other specific entertainers. The café that Airstream and Dewdrop were currently visiting allowed only bots with high-paying occupations and bots with special abilities. Dewdrop, fortunately, fit into both categories, being that she was a rainmaker _and_ an Energon-Sensitive Seeker, both being specialized by frame and sparked abilities. While Dewdrop's occupation was not all that high-paying, both Aerobatix's and Wingspot's _were_, and in a trine, there really _was_ no "yours" or "mine." Not in material things anyways.

Dewdrop had chosen an inside seat this particular cycle, wanting to be cut off from outside sound for once, though she couldn't completely pinpoint why. She knew it wasn't for privacy, because you could have equal privacy on the outside balcony. She knew it wasn't because she wanted to avoid being seen, because this visit could very well end up on next orn's Reporter List if it was to go south. No matter the reason, she was careful to pick the table at the very back of the café and pointedly sat in the chair that would place her with her back to the wall.

"Ugh, finally! My wings and legs are _aching_," Airstream complained none too quietly.

"Such a whiner!" Dewdrop teased as she looked her friend over as she sat down. Airstream truly looked beat, but that was mainly because of her job. The femme worked as a transporter of high value metals, hired directly by tradesmechs and finery-makers. It was hard work, one that required a lot of strength and a lot of energy. Unfortunately, it was considered a commoner's job, though, one that only desperate Seekers did, mainly because it was a dirty job with low pay. Higher class femmes and mechs, after all, hated getting their hands dirty, especially Seekers.

This was the main reason why Airstream was not allowed in Clarity's Café. Instead of armor, the femme stuck with lighter, black plating. Not only did it make flying back and forth to the mine and her customers easier, but her paintjob hid any dust or oil smudges she might have picked up from the miners. However, that was the exact reason why lighter colors and armor were _in_ at the moment. Heavier armor meant more skill in flying, and lighter colors showed off how pristine your finish was. While Dewdrop could afford to cater to the fashion sense of other Seekers (white, yellow, and baby blue were the colors of the vorn), Airstream could not.

But then again, that was what Dewdrop liked about the femme: she was different.

"Well, when you get a job as demanding as mine, you can whine, too," Airstream said in a mock prim voice. Dewdrop rolled her optics.

"So what news have you from the mines?" the bar femme questioned, lowering her voice as she asked the question. Airstream frowned as she leaned forward on the table.

"Well, at the moment—"

"Can I take your order?" a female voice interrupted. Both of the seated femmes went silent as they looked up at the server femme. She was a medium height femme, smaller than Dewdrop, but taller only a bit than Airstream. She wore saffron yellow armor with silver highlights. The lowered, more relaxed position of her wings, along with the small glyph on her left cheek, revealed her status as her trine's third. Dewdrop's own glyph was located on the armor of her left forearm, as well as the tender protoform underneath.

"Ah, yes. I would like some freshly-brewed high-grade, please. And Airstream…?" Dewdrop prodded, looking over at her friend. Dewdrop noticed the Seekess give Airstream a disgusted look but did not say anything as Airstream glanced down at her menu.

"I'll, uh, have the same," she stated hesitantly. She never really _had_ gotten the hang of ordering at high-class joints such as Clarity's. The server huffed lightly before striding away, wings flicking haughtily, gaining a condescending scoff from Dewdrop.

"As if _she_ is above us," Dewdrop muttered before turning her attention back to her friend. "You were saying?"

"Huh? Oh! The miners are worried about an attack from the Sea of Rust," Airstream announced in a low voice. Dewdrop frowned.

"Surely that's not possible. If they dropped, they would sink to the bottom. The rust would clog their systems before suffocating their sparks. This must be a mistake, a rumor," the blue femme reasoned.

"Hey, I just repeat what I hear. Stonehunter was really worried about something, though. Kept talking about a war on the ground," Airstream stated with frown that matched her friend's.

"Wait, 'war on the ground?' You don't think they're worried about the grounders' war is going to spill over into Vos, do you?" Dewdrop questioned. Airstream's reply was to laugh uproariously, effectively gaining the attention of every bot in the café, most of whom were glaring at her for disturbing the peace.

"Really, Dew? That's what you're worried about?"

"Well, I'm not sure. Wingspot said it's possible. He's actually worried about it," Dewdrop said lowly, as her friend sobered. The attention slowly moved away from them as the server femme brought them their energon. Dewdrop noted that the femme didn't even look at Airstream, asking _Dewdrop_ if there was anything else they needed before walking away.

"Glitch," Airstream mumbled under her breath as she sipped at her energon, grimacing when she swallowed. She looked up at Dewdrop and held her energon out with a dry, "Fix it."

Dewdrop rolled her optics, but complied, taking a few jars of energon enhancers out of her subspace. Airstream only stared blankly as her friend opened one to reveal ruby shavings and another to reveal a large collection of rust sticks.

"Where do you even get all of that?" the black femme questioned. Dewdrop glanced up at her before looking back down at the energon cube that was held out to her.

"I make it. Why do you think I go to the market every midorn? Though I'll admit that I take the more expensive stuff from Slidewing's." She dropped a small pinch of ruby shavings into the warmed energon before mixing it with a rust stick, which was left in the energon to dissolve and add extra flavor.

"Like those ionized copper strings?" Airstream questioned with a raised optic ridge. After all, ionizing metal was not cheap, especially when that metal then had to be sliced down into thin, half-foot-long coils.

"It's not like Quality cares. Or Slipshot, for that matter. As long as I show up for work, they're happy," Dewdrop claimed. "So do you think Tarn might allow the grounders access to Northern Vos?"

"Are you really that paranoid about the grounders attacking?" Airstream questioned with a doubtful frown. Dewdrop grimaced as she shook her helm, mildly irritated that Wingspot's concerns had filtered into her own spark via their bond.

"I dunno. It's just… what if we're not as out-of-reach as we think we are?" Dewdrop responded, finally beginning to see why Wingspot and Aerobatix had been so worried earlier.

"Dew, they're _grounders._ Honestly, I'm surprised any of them are smart enough to hold a gun, much less have enough tactical intelligence to lay siege to Vos," Airstream said in a deadpan voice, unwittingly repeating Dewdrop's earlier argument back to her.

"I guess," she hummed as she sipped at her own energon. She had always had a love for warmed energon, ever enjoying the way it ran smoothly through her pump and warmed her body from the inside out. She would always say that out of anything she mixed, warmed energon was the only thing that could make her relax. The high grade of her current energon helped with that relaxation, too, overcharging her systems so that she felt a calm, tingly undercurrent in her energon lines before the fuel was rerouted to her flight systems.

"So how's Glamour?" Airstream asked, smoothly changing the subject. Dewdrop grinned as she glanced down at her left shoulder where her light blue drone was currently relaxing, easily intercepting some of the high-grade as it flowed through her host's systems.

"Starscream said the glitch wasn't programming. We'll have to work through it ourselves," Dewdrop stated lightly.

"Which means Gizmo's going to be doing all the strenuous work?" the other femme surmised. "Which, by the way, you really need to either paint Glamour a darker blue or make Gizmo lighter, because the one light blue, one dark blue shoulder thing looks weird."

"Navy blue and baby blue go perfectly together, and I have yet to hear a negative statement about their appearance on my shoulders. Pit, they barely take up any space and look just like the shoulder armor of every other femme!" Dewdrop claimed, glancing down at her left shoulder where Glamour rested. Honestly, the two drones didn't take up much space and gave her the appearance of wearing thin shoulder pads. Not big enough to be tacky, but not small enough to blend in perfectly with the rest of her armor.

"Yeah. Except most femmes have both their shoulders painted the same color," Airstream shot back with a teasing grin. Dewdrop gave a dramatic sigh as she rolled her optics.

"There's no winning with you, is there?" she asked.

"Nope. So are you on-shift next solar cycle?" Airstream questioned with a wide grin. Dewdrop nodded.

"No, though Quality wishes I was. Frag, he'd have me working every off-cycle and lunar cycle if I hadn't thrown that fit last time he asked," the light blue Seekess noted dryly.

"Yeah, that _was_ pretty spectacular," Airstream noted, easily remembering the famous yelling match between Quality and Dewdrop. It had been heard even through the sound barrier that separated the inside from the outside. "Off-cycles should be for your trine. Even the miners get those cycles off."

"Yeah. I can tell that Wing wants to plan something special for next cycle. I think he's planning on taking me to the Halogen Gardens in South Vos," Dewdrop confided.

"That close to the Sea of Rust?! You shall surely be attacked by grounders and dragged away to be ravished and killed!" Airstream whispered overdramatically. The two femmes stared at each other for a klik before both broke down into laughter.

"Primus, what would I do without you?" Dewdrop asked through her laughter.

"Have to deal with Aero as your comic relief," the black femme responded with humor.

"Which is why I keep you around," Dewdrop announced as she slowly sobered up. A gentle ping through her bond had her gulping down the remainder of her high-grade, and she rose to her pedes as she dropped some credits on the table. Airstream scowled at the credits.

"When I get a better job, I'm gonna start paying for everything. I'll buy you a new paintjob, new armor, and a pet," Airstream promised lightly, though Dewdrop could see how embarrassed she was that another bot was paying for her high-grade. Dewdrop frowned.

"The only reason I pay is because I always insist on coming to these overpriced cafés. Maybe we should start going to a pub," Dewdrop suggested as they moved toward the front balcony.

"And have all those bots stare at your pretty paintjob and demand we sing drinking songs? Not a chance." Dewdrop smiled fondly at her friend before she stepped through the sound barrier and into the Vosonian air.

"Wing's calling for me. See you in a few solar cycles?" she questioned. Airstream grinned.

"Sure. Maybe we can hit up a party or something," the transporter suggested, only to gain a snort from her bar femme friend.

"Like Wing will let me step foot in an abode with a bunch of overcharged, partying Seekers."

"And that's different from your job… how?" Airstream responded with a raised optic ridge.

"If I punch a mech's lights out in my bar, I can claim harassment. In a party, it's called 'assault.'"

"I'm not sure it works that way, but I won't try to challenge your backwards logic."

"_Good-bye_, Airstream," Dewdrop said pointedly as she walked to the balcony edge.

"See ya!" Airstream chirped. Dewdrop watched as the femme transformed into a round, bulky jet and wondered—not for the first time—how Airstream's bipedal mode appeared so slim. She must have a lot of subspace. Pushing those thoughts aside, the light blue femme jumped up and transformed into her alt mode.

"BE ADVISED. MERCURY STORM ARRIVING IN ONE JOOR. ACID STORM WILL FOLLOW FOR FOLLOWING JOOR. ALL NON-RAINMAKERS, REMAIN INDOORS AND LOWER ACID SHEILDS. FOLLOWING RAINMAKERS REPORT TO STATIONS FOR DAMAGE PREVENTION: ACIDSTORM, SKYFALL, SUNSTORM, THUNDERCRACKER, RAINDANCE, ACIDFALL, LIGHTNINGSTRIKE, THUNDERSHOOT, AND HAILSTORM."

Dewdrop hummed to herself as the Reporter repeated her warning and order over the city-state's general loudspeaker. It was nice to see a member of the Royal Command Trine doing his civic duty. It was even nicer that she wasn't called to her station this cycle. She didn't relish the idea of doing nothing but creating rainstorm after rainstorm to counteract the effects of the acid rain. Besides, while the nanites in her armor prevented circuitry damage or melting from the acid, it did not protect her paintjob, and she _really_ didn't want to online early to repaint herself, especially after a long night of rainmaking.

**/Better hurry up or the rain's gonna get'cha/**

**/Frag you, Aero/**

**/Both of you, be silent. Primus, it's like having two sparklings for trine mates/**

**/He loves us so much/**

**/Indeed he does, Dew. After all, if he didn't have us, he'd have to lead some half-rate trine/**

**/Primus forbid!/**

**/Yes. You two may be glitches, but you're **_**my**_** glitches/**

**/… Wow. I don't know whether to be offended or flattered/**

**/Go with flattered, A. He always means well/**

**/Are you almost here?/**

**/Yep. You should hear me soon/**

**/We can't hear you until you're right outside the fragging abode/**

**/Primus, Aero, you're such a grouch today! And I'll have you know that stealth is a long-revered Seeker skill/**

**/Somehow, I doubt our ancestors used their stealth to sneak up on their unsuspecting seconds/**

**/I would **_**never **_**do that!/**

**/I can feel your sarcasm though the bond/**

**/Wing, tell him I'd never do something so mean to him!/**

**/Staying out of this/**

Dewdrop laughed out loud at that as she landed on the balcony of their abode. She grinned as she trotted into the livingroom, spinning on her heel and plopping onto the couch the klik she reached it. She immediately laid out, placing her helm on Aerobatix's lap as her legs hung over the armrest.

"You know you love me," she sang, vaguely registering that Wingspot had closed off the huge balcony with the metal acid shield. She had no doubt that the balcony in their berthroom was also already closed off. Wingspot was always ahead of the game.

"I love you, but that doesn't mean I like you, meanie," Aero responded childishly, though his grin took away from the effect.

"Come, my wings. Aero has work next cycle, and you and I have a date, Dewdrop," Wingspot interjected. Dewdrop sat up to give her trine leader a dismayed look.

"Aero has to work? But… it's our trine cycle!" she protested, turning her disappointed expression on her third, who winced in response.

"Sorry, Dew. With the grounders' war picking up speed, Starscream needs all the couriers he can get. Vos has to be ready to defend herself," he said sadly.

"Oh." Dewdrop looked down at her lap as she turned on the couch to face forward. "Maybe you can come next time?"

"Yeah. Besides, you and Wing needed a leader/third cycle. You two don't get any bonding time anymore," Aero reasoned, attempting to cheer the youngest trine member up. Dewdrop smiled, appreciating the effort.

"Yeah. We'll be sure to have lots of fun for you," she promised as she took the hand Wingspot had extended to her and allowed him to pull her to her pedes. She spent that lunar cycle cuddled in between her two trine mates, and as she drifted off, she noted again how much she loved life. Peaceful, perfect, and without strife.

Mideast Vos was safety, and she knew without a doubt that that would never change.

* * *

**Bliss123:** Thank you very much. I can tell you with certainty, though, that I will not be continuing A Spark's Haven. I honestly have no idea where to go with that fic. I have different scenes I want to put in it, but I have no idea how to get to those scenes. TBH, I hadn't put much thought into it past what I've written when I was plotting it. It's sad, but the natural state of things. I might update later if I have a block on one of my other stories, but I don't want to get your hopes up. Chances are I won't touch it again

**I-Am-Uniquely-Myself:** Lol, it _did_ kinda suddenly turn abruptly, didn't it? I couldn't resist. I've got such a flair for the dramatic! XD

**The Cybertonium Warrior: **It's just time. I've got a few more ideas I'm gonna work through, then I must leave. Fanfiction . net has always been a learning site to me, but like the 2009ers and the 2006ers, my generation of writers are all starting to leave the site to enjoy real life writing, and my time to join them is arriving fairly quickly. I mean, all of y'all love my stories so much! Imagine if I could bring this joy to the rest of the world? I wanna be bigger than all the current writers. And if my stories aren't what America wants… I can always come back here. :)

**PepperCornPie:** Thank you for your advice. I was hesitant at first, but I think you're right about leaving it up. And I do plan on finishing GaGS, I just have to figure out what I want to happen next. Time isn't a fun thing for me, and Nova has to stay with the cons for more than a few days. It's hard for me to find things to write for the year or so she's trapped with the bad guys… I was thinking about doing a time-skip chapter, but I'm unsure. I can't remember how I was going to have Megs regain her trust, and I lost the spiral that had the notes for that chapter. Stuck in a rut over here. =_= I shall prevail, though. :) Thanks for your kind words, and I hope you like this update! :D

* * *

1) So, in my 'verse, Rainmaking is a pretty common trait. I mean, in G1, three of the nine Seekers were technically Rainmakers. So that's the statistic I used. One out of three Seekers is a rainmaker of some sort, a frame upgrade gifted to randomly selected Seekers by the Command Trine and Vosonain Elders. Datasong makes H2O (water), so she's actually pretty useless. What she does is coats buildings with water to control the damage done by the acid rain. However, other Seekers don't know what her rainmaking ability is, nor do they know that she really isn't that strong a rainmaker, which means she gets fame that she technically doesn't deserve, not that she cares.

2) Energon-Sensitive is something a Seeker is born with. There are four types of ES Seekers: 1) Those that can mine energon (Airstream's trine leader is this kind of Seeker), those that can handle raw energon (As Seeker energon is much more volatile than grounder energon), those that can locate energon, and those that can mix energon (like Dewdrop). All ES seekers have a broad palate, meaning they like all types of energon and aren't picky fuelers, but only ES Mixers can put additives in that make _other_ Seekers like what they make. Understand what I mean? So once again, Dewdrop's pretty useless unless she's behind a bar. She can't locate or mine energon, but she can make it taste good. Being a Mixer _is_ a high-class thing though. I think of it this way, wouldn't you wanna be best friends with a rare person that can make water taste like the finest wine when water's all you can drink?

3) Most of her popularity, as you'll see, is just by her not correcting people's assumptions. Why would she? I mean, if you walked down Main Street and everyone thought you were famous so they asked for your autograph and took pictures, would you correct them? Especially if it was a whole fricken state that believed you were famous? *shrug* not that this will matter very soon. "Like all good things, it burned to the ground."


	3. Chapter 2

So this chapter is uber long, has tons of fluff, and we finally get a little bit of action. Not much, because our femme is not yet a fighter, but some. We'll start seeing some canon characters. Enjoy. Review. If you want a reply via PM, please say so.

* * *

Chapter 2

11,023 words

* * *

"Dewdrop…" a deep voice crooned. The blue femme in question vented lazily as she snuggled into the warm chest in front of her. Strong arms wrapped around her from her front, and the sound of a whuffling vent was heard. "C'mon, Dewdrop. Wake up. You, too, Aero. You've got work"

"Noooo… Soff n' warm…" Aero mumbled as he cuddled his third closer. Their leader vented, amusement and exasperation bouncing around in the bond, mixing with his trine's comfort and relaxation.

"Time to wake up," Wingspot repeated. A resounding "no" bounced through the bond, and Wingspot took action. Dewdrop's body went rigid when a finger suddenly brushed over the center of her wing, activating sensory nodes and tactile receptors. Her systems didn't get a chance to completely register the touch before Wingspot repeated the motion. Dewdrop squealed and attempted to wriggle away from her leader as he starting brushing his hands over her wings. Her red optics flashed on, and she giggled madly as her sensory receptors went haywire from the feeling.

"No, stop! Wing—ah!—stop!" Dewdrop squealed as she attempted to roll over her second to get away from the tickling fingers. Aero tightened his grip as he onlined his optics with a grin.

"Morning tickle session? You should've said something, Wing! I would've woken up sooner," Aero claimed as he held the femme to his body with his right arm and started running his fingers over the front of her wing with his left. Dewdrop squealed and wriggled under the mechs' ministrations, attempting to free herself without success.

"I'm up! I'm up! S-stop!" Dewdrop yelped through her giggles.

"Should we stop?" Aero asked his leader in a teasing voice.

"Well, I suppose torture can only be truly condoned for a few kliks at most," Wingspot responded as he rose from the berth. Dewdrop went limp on top of Aerobatix the klik they stopped their actions, venting system working hard to return her frame to a normal temperature.

"I hate you two sometimes," the baby blue femme stated without any true conviction. Aero gave a single laugh before wrapping both his arms around her again, cuddling her to his body as he rolled over. Dewdrop yelped as he rolled off the berth and onto his pedes, still holding her to his body so that her pedes did not touch the ground. "Aero! Lemme go!"

"I don't think I will. You're too _precious_," Aerobatix teased. Dewdrop growled lowly when Aero started purposefully rocking his body side-to-side with every step, making Dewdrop's lower body sway back and forth dramatically.

"Aero!" she yelped, as she kicked her legs in an attempt to throw off the larger flyer's balance.

"That's enough, you two. Come refuel so that we can begin our cycle." Their leader's command was immediately obeyed, and the two younger jets made faces at each other as they strode to the kitchen. Wingspot dutifully ignored both of them as he watched them seat themselves at the small round table in the center of the kitchen area and handed each of them a cube of reg-grade. Dewdrop smiled at her leader as she pulled her spice containers from subspace and immediately dropped a pinch of copper and a pinch of zinc into his cube. He smiled at her in thanks before taking a sip.

"Mine now," Aero commanded childishly as he pushed his energon cube in her direction.

"But of course," the femme responded as she put some spice in her trine mate's cube. She surreptitiously watched him as he took a sip, keeping her attention split between him and the cube of energon that she was currently putting steel shavings and rust particles in. She was rewarded for her attention when Aero immediately spit his energon out with a loud gagging sound and rushed to the sink to wash his mouth components out with dihydrogen monoxide. Dewdrop laughed loudly at her trine mate's expense while Wingspot only gave an exasperated sigh at his trine's sparkling-like behavior.

"Was that really necessary, Dewdrop?" he asked heavily. Dewdrop gave him a winning grin.

"Yup! It's what he gets for knocking me from the sky," Dewdrop replied. "Besides, it's not my fault he grabbed my energon," she added as she took a sip of from the cube that Aero had tasted. Depolarized potassium mixed with lightly magnetized steel shavings and rust particles. The potassium gave it a bitter taste, one that Dewdrop, being a mixer and Energon-Sensitive Seeker, didn't mind all too much. Aerobatix, however, didn't particularly like bitter flavors.

"That was low," Aero muttered as he slunk back to his seat and glared at the new cube Dewdrop placed in front of him. "I don't even know how you can stand that taste," he grumbled as he sipped at his new, correctly enhanced cube.

"Because it's yummy," she replied sweetly as she took a long gulp, leaning closer to her second as she did and taking joy in his full-frame shudder of disgust. "Disengage," she ordered lightly as she straightened in her seat. She felt minor transformation cogs in both of her shoulders activate as her two drones onlined and started separated themselves from her shoulders. Gizmo, as was expected, was the first to disengage, and he immediately activated his jetpack to float in front of his host.

"Good joor, mistress. Need you any assistance?" the navy blue spark drone questioned politely. Dewdrop was about to respond when Glamour onlined and shot into the air, flying excitedly around the larger femme's helm while shrieking, "Dew! Dew! Dew! Dew!" excitedly.

"Good Primus, Glamour! Can you not contain yourself whilst addressing our mistress?" Gizmo questioned, sounding rather aghast for such a small mech.

"Dew! Dew! Guess what! Guess what!" Glamour exclaimed, ignoring her brother as she came to a stop directly in front of her host's faceplates.

"What?" Dewdrop asked, an amused smile on her face.

"I had a dream!" Glamour stated proudly. Gizmo groaned dramatically as he placed his head in his small hands.

"Really? What was it about?" the femme asked indulgently.

"I became your favorite, and Gizmo had a glitch! It was great! I got to carry all the energon cubes around, and Gizmo had to carry the closed spice containers! I was special again!" Glamour exclaimed happily, and Gizmo sighed in exasperation. Dewdrop grinned as she took the smaller femme into her hand.

"You are very special, Glamour, and you wanna know why?" Dewdrop questioned.

"Yeah!" the baby blue drone squeaked.

"Because you're my. Little. Femme," Dewdrop stated, tapping Glamour's nose plating in time with the last three words. The small femme giggled happily as she hugged her mistress's pointer digit, gaining yet another sigh from her more proper counterpart.

"Compliment fishing again, are we, Glamour?" he questioned condescendingly.

"Giz, be nice," Dewdrop warned as she reclaimed her finger so that she could take another sip of energon.

"He's just jealous, Glam, that he doesn't have as much personality as you," Aerobatix suddenly interjected with a sly grin, gaining a happy squeal from the femlet.

"Why, I never!" Gizmo exclaimed, though Dewdrop knew it was from embarrassment rather than offense.

"I love you just as much, Gizmo," Dewdrop assured him as she placed her energon down to pull him into her other hand.

"You know, I don't know whether to be proud or jealous that you've become the leader of your own little trine," Wingspot claimed lightly, a warm smile on his face.

"Both. You should always be jealous of bots that steal my time away," Dewdrop claimed with a wink.

"Ah. Of course." The room went silent for a fraction breem as the three Seekers finished their early cycle rations.

"Well," Aero said suddenly when he finished his cube, "I gotta go. You two enjoy your date or whatever."

"Bye, Aerobatix," Dewdrop replied as she rose to give her second a hug. He cuddled her close as always before releasing her.

"May the winds be on your side, and may your wings bring you home," Wingspot said formally, the same farewell a leader always told his wings whenever they were leaving for an extended period of time. Aero nodded his helm in acknowledgement.

"I will return to you," he responded just as formally. The remaining two Seekers returned to their energon as Aero exited the kitchen area and moved back into the living room. The sound of the acid shield rising filled the room, followed by the sound of powerful thrusters warming up. Gears shifted and a klik later, Aerobatix was flying away in his alt mode.

"So…" Dewdrop began slowly as she lifted the rest of her cube to her mouth and downed the small amount of fuel still in it.

"So…" Wingspot repeated with a small grin. Dewdrop rose to her pedes to dispose of the empty cube, grabbing Aerobatix's abandoned, empty cube as she moved.

"What's the plan?" she questioned as she placed the cube in a recycler, where it would be rinsed with solvent, dried, and returned to their cube dispenser.

"Well," Wingspot began as he stepped up behind her and reached around her to put his own cube in the recycler she stood in front of, "I _did_ promise to take you to the Halogen Gardens." Dewdrop gasped in excitement, whirling around to grin up at him.

"Yes!" she squealed. "They just finished the upgrades! I heard the have different color gasses now! Not just green and gold! And I heard they took a page from the Crystal Gardens and suspended different stones from the ceiling! Oh, primus, I'm so excited!"

"Primus, if I had known you were so excited, I would have given you the credits to visit an orn ago when they completed the upgrade," Wingspot stated, frowning at his third's nasty habit of keeping her desires and pains to herself. She never asked for anything, that was certain. It was the one trait that frustrated him from the very beginning of their trining, one that still frustrated him to that cycle.

"Guys, are you coming?" Dewdrop asked, turning to her two drones who sat on the tabletop. Gizmo grimaced.

"Such an outing is not really my personal form of amusement," he stated flatly. However, Glamour's optics lit up.

"Really? Colorful stuff and pretty gems? Oh, I wanna go!" she said as she flew up to float in front of her host's face plates again, sounding much like a femling being offered a trip to see the palace. Gizmo sighed heavily and rolled his optics up to the ceiling, as if asking Primus why he had cursed him with such a dolt for a twin.

"Well, Glamour's in. What about you, Giz? Gonna stay home?" Dewdrop asked with a teasing glint in her optic.

"Yes, and Glamour will be required to remain here as well," Gizmo stated evenly. The larger femme frowned at this, as did her leader and drone. Gizmo glanced at each bot in turn and gave a sigh before expounding, "Post upgrade diagnostic? Lord Starscream will want a report on how her newest upgrades have set in after a cycle's recharge."

"Oh," Glamour and Dewdrop said at the same time, both drooping rather comically.

"Yes. 'Oh.' Now, Dewdrop, I would suggest you go hook yourself up to the diagnostic machine in Mistress Dewdrop's quarters now. I will be in there to activate the machine momentarily," Gizmo ordered. Glamour gave Dewdrop a kicked puppy look as she floated sullenly to the berthroom, wings and jetpack holding up her limp body as she sulked.

"I would suggest you hurry. If we finish in time, perhaps we can meet up with the mistress and her leader," Gizmo added. Glamour perked up at that promise and jetted into the room without another moment's hesitation.

"And you?" Dewdrop prompted as Gizmo moved in the direction of the berthroom.

"I shall be cleaning out the washracks, as Master Aerobatix managed to get dust all over them. How he picks up so much soot, I shall never know," Gizmo said in a woe-is-me voice as he floated though the berthroom door. "Enjoy your outing."

"We will. Meet up if you can," Dewdrop called after him.

"I shall strive to," he responded in a deadpan voice. Dewdrop only smiled in reply.

"Ready to go?" Wingspot questioned. Dewdrop's smile turned into a full-blown grin.

"Let's jet," she responded excitedly. She sprinted to the balcony and leapt off, transforming and activating her thrusters before she lost any altitude. Wingspot followed her at a slower pace and watched her from the balcony as she looped and twisted gracefully in the air, thrusters nearly silent as she flew. It was an upgrade she had paid an inordinate amount of credits for, but one she was proud of none-the-less.

**/C'mon! Let's go!/** she chided through the bond as she buzzed by just over his helm. Wingspot rolled his optics at her enthusiasm as he followed her example and transformed into his jet form. He immediately shot straight up in the sky before changing his direction to head in a southward direction. Dewdrop sent her excitement through the bond as she quickly fell into line behind him, leaving Aerobatix's spot free as she took the position to Wingspot's left.

The next two breems was spent flying. Dewdrop easily followed Wingspot's twists and turns, having memorized his flight patterns long ago. A few times, he'd momentarily stall his thrusters to drop behind his trine mate, then he'd bring them back online so that he could brush his wing playfully over hers as he returned to his position on point. Each time, Dewdrop would giggle before twisting into aileron roll. It was a relaxing atmosphere, the perfect change from yestercycle's stressful worry.

**/We're almost there. Raise your signal to announce landing/** Dewdrop immediately obeyed, completely offlining her spark dampener as they neared the Halogen Gardens. As she came closer to the ground, Seekers around her instinctively raised their own spark signatures in response to ensure that she didn't accidentally mow them down during landing. She followed her leader's example as he slowed down and transformed just above the ground, landing gracefully on his feet. Dewdrop landed lightly beside him and stood tall as she glanced around her.

Already, she could hear the quiet mutterings of the Seekers around her as they took in their appearance there. While Wingspot's trine was in no way famous, they were still easily recognizable by their frame types and the specific glyphs on their frames. The fact that both trine members had frames that pointed them out as richer bots did nothing to hide their presence, and the glyphs on the backs of their necks gained even more attention. At the base of Wingspot's neck, two glyphs identified him as the Protector of the Command, a statement that meant he knew the Royal Command Trine personally, and while this didn't necessarily mean that Starscream and Wingspot were best friends, it was still a great honor to be allowed to have such a statement on your frame. Likewise, etched in the base of Dewdrop's neck was a glyph that identified her as an Energon-Sensitive Seeker, or an ES Seeker, and just below that, the glyph for rainmaker was etched in just above her stabilizing thrusters. Apart, Wingspot and Dewdrop had the makings to be very distinguished and popular bots, though neither of them particularly desired such a position, and together they drew more attention than they thought was strictly necessary.

**/If it's like this at the Gardens, we're going home/** Dewdrop warned as she glanced at the bots around her who either whispered about them, pointing at them as if they couldn't see or stared shamelessly, obviously not caring what the two upper class bots thought.

**/Southern Vos is not a poor area. You would think they would be used to such visitors/** Wingspot noticed with a grimace as he wrapped an arm around his third and started down the crowded market street toward the Halogen Gardens.

**/An E-S Seeker and a guardsmech to the Command Trine? Bite your glossa!/**

**/Sometimes, I wonder how I ended up with you and Aero as trine mates when I could have had any respectable mechs or femmes/**

**/Yeah, but imagine how boring your life would be. Besides, then me and Aero would have been stuck with somebot else who wouldn't have nearly as much patience as you/**

Dewdrop didn't miss the pang of worry and hurt that flowed from Wingspot's side of the bond at the thought of his two wings being with somebot else. They may have been mildly irritating at times, but they were still _his_ trine. Dewdrop smiled up at him as she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her helm on his chest as they walked. Their peace was shattered the second they walked past the first vendor's stall.

"Hey, guardsmech! Come see my wares! Pretty gems for your pretty femme!" the blue tradesmech cried.

"No, he will want to buy her something from my stall! The rarest stones in all of Vos!" another advertised.

"We sell the finest wing wax! Make your wings the prettiest in the city!"

"Exotic jewelry from Iacon and Praxus! Authentic Iaconian jewelry!"

**/I think they're trying too hard/** Dewdrop admitted as she took a moment to glance at a stall that showed beautiful gems and metals.

**/Do you see anything you like?/** Wingspot responded as he released her and glanced back at the stall she had looked at.

**/I already have plenty of jewel inlays and fineries at the nest. You spoil me/**

**/It is good that Aerobatix isn't here. He'd buy something from every fragging mech he passed/**

**/Ooh, enhancers!/** Dewdrop gasped through the bond, and Wingspot snorted as he followed his third, who made a beeline for the stall in particular that she had seen.

"Ah, a mixer. You will find nice things here," the trader said in a mystifying voice. Dewdrop ignored him as she studied his wares with no small amount of excitement.

"Carbon steel shavings, calcium nuggets, Magnesium, Cadmium. Oh, is that Beryllium? Primus, Wing, he has ionized iridium!" Dewdrop cut herself off with a gasp as she turned pleading optics on her trine leader. "He has _cybertonium shavings!"_ Wingspot had to laugh at her expression. He offered the femme gemstones and jewel inlays, and she snubs them, yet she goes crazy for _energon enhancers_, which were generally cheaper. Not that she had pointed out the cheaper spices the mech had on display.

"We'll take one of everything," Wingspot stated, and both the seller's and Dewdrop's mouths opened in surprise, both sets of optics widening comically.

"_Really?"_ Both mech and femme gasped, then Dewdrop leapt into her leader's arms with a squeal.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll get to experiment so much with this, and if I can make something that sells, Slipshot will give me open access to it, and thank you!" She continued to babble happily as the merchant, appearing to be in a sort of daze, started placing one of everything in a subspace bag.

"That will be three hundred and thirteen credits," the mech said uncertainly. Wingspot took the subspace bag and handed it to his excited third as he handed the mech a datachip that held his financial information.

"The credits will be billed over by the next cycle," Wingspot stated as he notified his creditor via databurst of his purchase. The mech nodded slowly in reply. Dewdrop giggled giddily as she put the bag in her extensive subspace unit.

"Thank you!" she repeated as Wingspot put an arm around her waist and started leading her away.

"As you said, I spoil you," he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Aw, thanks! Love you, Wing!" she chirped, reasserting those words with a feeling through the bond. Wingspot's engine revved joyfully at these words.

"I love you as well, precious wing," he replied gently as he cuddled his femme closer, earning a light purr from the femme. They ignored the looks they got as they continued down the street. It only took a few more blocks before the buildings cleared away to reveal a large opening that contained the pyramid-shaped building that housed the Halogen Gardens.

The Halogen Pyramid was arguably the most progressive building created by Vosonian architects. The clear material used to make the slanted, triangular walls was strong and flexible, created so that if any Seeker accidentally flew into it, they would rebound off of it harmlessly. The glass didn't shatter under the impact. Instead, the wall would fold inward a bit, much like rubber, before lightly repelling the Seeker away, yet if one touched it without any true force, it felt like a solid wall. According to the Reporter, Lord Starscream himself had created the material, and the architects had reproduced it and used it to create the pyramid.

"So pretty," Dewdrop whispered as they approached it. Through the translucent walls, the blue femme could see the air inside twisting with different colors, and she couldn't help but feel another thrill of excitement. Though she was a smart femme, science and extreme math were far above her level of comprehension. Sure, she could perform basic mathematics and first aid, but every Seeker could. It was something taught to every Seeklet when they reached their youngling frame so that they could assist in the case of an emergency. Not only did it help bots feel more empowered in intense situations, but it lower medical costs because most injuries could be repaired by creators, trine mates, and siblings.

"Let's see the inside," Wingspot suggested as he dropped ten pink double-credit coin-chips into the ticket-master's hands. He allowed his third to lead the way into the pyramid and smiled at her wonder.

The Halogen Gardens was always a sight to behold and a puzzle-like game at the same time. The walkways formed a ground-level maze, one that was covered up by low-lying gasses so that a Seeker couldn't figure out which way to go at one look. You could only see two or three steps in front of you. Situated in the areas without walkways were crystals of different colors. Light from outside the pyramid refracted off these crystals and gave the mid-level gasses their rainbow color. Each gas reflected a single color, and since the gasses could not mix, the colors curled around each other and broke apart to float away before rejoining with a different cloud of the same color. Near the top of the pyramid, black gasses blanked out the sunlight from above, and yellow, glow-in-the-dark crystals gave the appearance of stars and were light enough that they did not need to be suspended by strings. The gasses they floated on easily supported them.

"It's so pretty…" Dewdrop breathed as she looked around in awe. Wingspot smiled gently at his third as she looked up at the colorful gasses, appearing to be so young in his optics. Primus, how many vorns had they been together now? Ten thousand? Twenty? He could remember the cycle Aero set optics on her and decided she would be theirs, despite the fact that she was in the process of attracting another incomplete trine. Primus, that had been a crazy vorn.

"C'mon, Wing, or we'll never finish the maze!" Dewdrop exclaimed. Wingspot smiled as Dewdrop grabbed his hand in her own and started pulling him down the first path. Yes, she may have been spoiled and slightly annoying at times, but he could ask for no better third.

* * *

Aerobatix was pouting. He was pouting because he was jealous and irritated. He was jealous and irritated because he was getting all these happy, fuzzy feelings from his trine mates, and he was _here_.

"Aero, are you listening?"

"Yeah, boss," he replied absently, crossing his arms over his chassis childishly as he did. The burly green mech stopped in front of him and mirrored the sulky mech's stance by crossing his own arms. Unlike Aero, though, his wings stood up at attention, rather than half-mast in mild-depression.

"Really? What did I say?" he questioned leaning closer. Aero sighed heavily.

"Straightshot is patrolling East Vos. Flyby is taking West. Teeter-Tot is taking South. Wingslice and Skystreak are taking North. I'm with Skysplice and Acidwing in Central Vos." The mechs who stood on either side of him in the shoulder-by-shoulder line grinned. No matter how little Aerobatix paid attention, somehow the slagger still got all the important details.

"Oh, yeah? And what's your route?" the green mech quizzed, leaning in even further.

"I got no clue, Surge." The mechs around him snickered lightly as Lightsurge glared at the youngest of the couriers.

"Here's the map. Don't screw up," Surge growled as he sent Aero the map that would dictate his route.

"With all due respect, sir, why are the guardmechs not doing the patrolling?" Aerobatix questioned with a frown.

"There was a breach in the Taran-Vosonian Border. The attack was… extensive, and the guardmechs are still fighting off the attackers." Aero's frown deepened.

"Wingspot wasn't called in to help," he stated.

"Primus, they're just a bunch of grounders. They won't do enough damage to call for the _whole_ guard's help," Surge said condescendingly. "Now, get. Report back every two breems on the klik."

"YES, SURGE!" the eight couriers shouted, and they turned to the nearby balcony and took off. They transformed mid-takeoff, and each mech went according to their own route. Acidwing and Skysplice flew next to Aero, who immediately banked back to filled the second's space in the trine formation behind Acidwing. It was trips like this that Aerobatix hated the most. Acidwing and Skysplice had lost their second long ago, and they always welcomed him in their formation. While Lightsurge encouraged such an action, Aero couldn't help but feel awkward in their formation, as if he was betraying Wingspot and Dewdrop. Besides, he never could tell what Acidwing planned to do next in his flight pattern.

"Hey, Aero, you're not paying much attention to anything today. Are you mad or something?" Skysplice asked innocently, which brought Aero to his last reason why he hated these two: they were fragging annoying.

"He's probably mad at being stuck with us," Acidwing said dimly.

"No, I'm mad because I'm working during a trine-bonding cycle," Aerobatix replied stiffly.

"Oh. You're not spending time with your trine today. That sucks. I get to spend the whole cycle with Acid. But you get to hang out with us!" Skysplice said, as if he was trying to cheer the purple mech up. The sad thing is that Aero knew that the other mech wasn't trying to be rude or anything. He was a generally stupid mech that had a tendency to state the obvious, and he had the unfortunate glitch that came with having no filter between his processor and his vocalizer. Literally. It was the result of the same flight accident that took their second's life. Skysplice literally said everything he thought, and due to a glitch, he only really thought things that were extremely obvious to everyone else. It did nothing to lessen his competency; only made him harder to work with.

Of course, Acidwing was no better, seeing as the only things that came from his mouth were depressing "what if's" and "probably's." Honestly, Aero couldn't remember ever hearing a positive word from the mech, and he couldn't help but wonder if Happyflight didn't actually commit suicide instead of crashing accidentally. Once again, Aero thanked Primus for Wingspot and Dewdrop.

"He's probably sad that he's stuck with us when he could be with his guardsmech trine leader and his cute femme-third," Acidwing said dismally.

"Hey! Don't talk about Dew that way!" Aero snapped, ever protective of his third. He hated it when some other bot noticed just how pretty and adorable she was.

"See? He hates us."

"Oh! It's the separation point! Gotta fly!" Aero said with more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary as he broke off from the formation to fly toward Midwest Vos.

"Bye, Aero! See you when you come back after we finish patrolling!" Skysplice called to him as the purple jet sped away from the other two. His frame shuddered as he even out.

**::This is Straightshot patrolling East Vos. I can see some type of disturbance in Lower Zhenetox. Investigate further?:: -Straightshot**

**::Affirmative. Report back.:: -Lightsurge**

**::Acknowledged.:: -Straightshot**

Aero sighed heavily when the link cut off. He was currently flying high over the city, checking for any general danger from a high altitude. On his trip back, he would swoop a little lower and patrol in a gridlock pattern. It was boring, though, and he found himself wishing that he could have gotten the southern patrol so that he could have stopped by the visit his trine. Wingspot had told him of his plans to give Dewdrop a trine day to remember, and he had planned it out to the smallest point, going so far as to ensure that wherever they landed would have transmechs selling jewelry, spices, and inlays. He planned for a quarter joor to be spent in the Halogen Gardens, then after that, he would take her to a nearby café that was famous for their warmed ionized high-grade, a beverage that was very, very difficult to get right. It was Dew's favorite mainly because she was still trying to perfect her own recipe. In truth, ionized high-grade always seemed to taste best when it was left without any enhancers. Try telling that to a mixer, though.

Once they finished there, Wingspot would take her to the theatre, where the Flying Gracelings, one of the most skilled traditional Vosonian dancing flyers, would be performing. After the performance, Wingspot would take her to a South Vos pub to get a Southern Vosonian Twist, and they would spend the rest of their solar cycle in their nest hidden in a cliff in Southeast Vos.

And Aero would be patrolling. All cycle.

It wasn't _fair!_

**::Lightsurge…? There are grounders…:: -Flyby**

**::… You wanna clarify just what you mean by that, rookie?:: -Lightsurge**

**::Surge, there are grounders! And they're—!:: **

—**Signal has been lost—**

**::What the frag?! Teeter-tot, check up on Flyby.:: -Lightsurge**

**::Surge, I haven't had a chance to check South—:: -Teeter-tot**

**::That's an order!:: -Lightsurge**

**::Yes, sir!:: -Teeter-tot**

Aerobatix frowned as he banked west, silently questioning the sharp pain that rushed through his spark. 'Tot could probably use the help. All the older couriers were all on the border helping with the battle, leaving behind Aerobatix and all the rookies, and while Aerobatix was one of the youngest couriers, he had been in the business for a good hundred vorns or so, giving him more experience than the other rookies he was working with. In fact, he hoped to be getting his Courier License soon to make him a Senior Courier. I would be nice to finally update the glyph on his neck.

**::Surge! At—::**

—**Signal has been lost—**

**::Straightshot, come in! Frag it, what's happening to all my mechs?!:: -Lightsurge**

**::Lightsurge, Vos is under attack! Contact—ah!—::**

—**Signal has been lost—**

**::What the—:: -Lightsurge**

That was when Aerobatix heard the first scream, and it was a sound that would be imprinted in his memory bank for the rest of his existence. It was loud and high-pitched, obviously coming from an unsuspecting femme, and it cut off abruptly and was followed swiftly by other screams. Shouts of fury and fear rose as all of Vos felt the death through the miniscule bond that every Seeker had with each other through their trine leaders and in extension, through the Command Trine.

**::Aerobatix, get the frag away from that border! Vos is under attack!:: -Lightsurge **

Alarm spread through the courier, along with a swift bout of disbelief. Vos was under attack? That wasn't possible. Nobot could reach Vos. It was the city-state in the sky, a landmass that defied gravity. It was a land untouchable.

Yet… as he shot over the city, he could see the gunfire, hear the sounds of terrified Seekers being shot down as they leapt into the air in an attempt to fly away from the attacking forces.

Grounders. They were being attacked by _grounders_. That wasn't possible. His spark seemed to stutter in his chest as he dodged any shots aimed at him and watched the mayhem below, feeling somewhat detached from the chaos. This wasn't really happening.

**::Aero! That was an order!:: -Lightsurge**

That snapped Aerobatix out of his daze. His depression was cleared by the phantom pain of other Seekers dying, and his disbelief was replaced by fury at the sound of his kin's screams and shouts. Determination filled his spark. He was a guardsmech's second. He would not allow his fellow Seekers to suffer.

**::I have to help them! Get the alert out!:: -Aerobatix**

With that, Aero dropped the link and dropped into a dive. He activated his speed thrusters as he steepened his dive, and he pulled up just above the street. He maneuvered with skilled accuracy as he buzzed the attacking grounders, overloading their audio receptors, distracting them, and sometimes even burning them with his thrusters. He rolled close to the ground, dodging shots as he shot past a mech that had his gun aimed at a femme third. The Seekess immediately jumped into the air, transforming and shooting away to safety.

"ALL SEEKERS TO THE SAFETY ZONES. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT: ALL SEEKERS TO THE SAFETY ZONES. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

The sound of the Reporter filled the air, and immediately, Seekers all over Vos took to the sky, transforming and scattering like a frenzied flock of birds. Trines linked up and took their positions as they flew toward their own safety zones and nests, many being shot down before they could get far. While every Seeker had a military build, very few actually knew how to fight past basic self-defense. They were generally peaceful creatures and had no need to know how to use weapons. They knew no war. They only experienced death when a Seeker had a flying accident. Seeing the grounders aiming their guns upward, Aero ducked back down to their level and continued his previous actions. He had to give the Seekers time to escape. This was his duty.

* * *

They had been seated in near the back of Winglift's Café when the first pang went through their sparks. Every Seeker in the café went rigid, most putting a hand to their spark in surprise as all noise ceased. Movement stopped outside as Seekers waited for the Reporter to inform all of Vos of the death and the cause. Nothing came, though. Instead, another pang passed through Vos's inhabitants, and the flyers started looking around in worry and confusion.

"What's going on? Where's the Reporter?" a Seeker mech questioned hesitantly, voicing the thought that was on every Seeker's mind.

"Maybe it was a full-trine accident, and she's still trying to get the details," a femme offered hesitantly.

Dewdrop placed her high-grade on the table slowly, keeping her hand wrapped around it as she looked over at her trine leader. Wingspot sat stiffly in his seat, optics locked on something in the distance. Dewdrop frowned as she slowly turned her optics to whatever he was looking at. A horrified gasp escaped her lips as she surged to her feet. The energon cube fell from the table at the sharp movement and shattered against the ground, but Dewdrop was past noticing.

A war-grade transport ship was flying at an even pace over Vos. It was huge, easily covering half of South Vos in its shadow as it floated forward, effectively cutting off the light from the sun. The sound of strong engines filled the air, and Dewdrop felt her spark shudder as those engines seemed to shake the ground.

"Wingspot, what's going on?" she asked in a horrified voice as her leader rose to his pedes, his optics still locked on something distant. Another pang rushed through her spark, followed closely by another, then two more, then another four. The phantom pain of trine-loss filled her with grief and anger. "Wingspot?" she repeated, looking up at him. She frowned when she saw his optics widen slightly, and worry and panic entered their bond. "Wingspot, what's happening?!" she all but shrieked at her leader, but he didn't answer, so she followed his gaze.

"Oh, Primus," she breathed. Fire. The city in the distance was on _fire_. She could see the zooming lights of missed plasmafire and the explosions from cannons. Vos was under attack. _Vos_ was under _attack._ She felt her processor stall a bit on this fact, mainly because it was_ not possible._ Vos had the guardsmechs to defend them, the couriers to discover any attacks before they happened, and the strategic location that prevented entrance.

Yet, the city was on fire, and she could feel the death of every Seeker in her spark.

"Vos is on fire!" a mech to her left cried after following the line of sight of the highest-class Seeker in the café. Mutterings filled the café. The mutterings quickly became statements and whimpers of worry and terror. Another pang went through their sparks, and the terror became full-out panic.

"We have to escape now!"

"They'll kill us!"

"Who's even attacking?!"

"What's going to happen to Vos?"

"What's going on?!"

"ALL SEEKERS TO THE SAFETY ZONES. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT: ALL SEEKERS TO THE SAFETY ZONES. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

The sudden sound of the lead Vosonian Reporter's voice over the city-state's general loud speaker stunned all the Seekers in Winglift's to silence. The speaker, normally used for announcements on things such as trining ceremonies, accidents, and planned appearances of the Royal Command Trine, had never been used to broadcast such a warning. There was a single moment of surreal disbelief, and half-overcharged mechs and femmes glanced around in confusion as if to see if anybot else heard that announcement or if it was a figment of their drunken processors. Wingspot was the first to break the dreamlike stupor, taking lead as the guardsmech he was.

"You heard the 'Porter! Everybot out! Find your trine, and get to your safety zones!" he bellowed. Bots jumped in surprise at his voice and immediately rushed to follow his command. Trine leaders acted swiftly, grabbing the arms of their seconds and thirds without hesitation, hurrying them toward the nearest balcony. Without wasting any time, Wingspot reached over and grabbed Dewdrop's arms.

"Let's go! We have to get out of here before the attackers arrive!" he exclaimed. Dewdrop nodded as she activated her thrusters, easily vaulting herself over the table, and Wingspot's right arm wrapped around her waist while his left hand held hers as they joined the crowd rushing towards the balcony. The trined duo dodged around the various tables as the Reporter's voice rose from the loud speaker again.

"ALL SEEKERS TO THE SAFETY ZONES. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT: ALL SEEKERS TO THE SAFETY ZONES. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

Wingspot and Dewdrop passed the clear sound-forcefield that separated Winglift's inner peace from the outside hustle and bustle, and it was like a switch was flipped. The sounds of frantic, terrified screams and angry shouts were almost completely drowned out by the sounds of explosions and plasma fire. Red and blue lit up the slowly darkening sky, and Dewdrop watched in horror as the building across from Winglift's began to collapse. Having been seated near the back on the second story, they had not been able to see such chaos from inside, and Dewdrop felt her spark drop to her pedes as she experienced it now. Vos was supposed to be untouchable. She was not supposed to get involved in the grounders' squabble.

"Dew, focus!" Wingspot ordered as he pulled her back through the barrier when a blue-opticed mech took a shot at them, breaking her view just as she saw a mech get stabbed through the spark. "Dew," Wingspot began as he turned her to face him, pointedly ignoring her trembling, "I need you to get to the nest. Don't stop to help anyone. Don't look around. Just get to the nest. I have to find Aero, and I have to defend Vos."

"No… No, Wing, don't leave me," Dewdrop begged as she grabbed at an armor plate on his chest.

"Dew, I have to help them. I have to protect our city," Wingspot said firmly, but his third only shook harder.

"Don't go out there. Don't leave me, please, Wingspot. I can't do this," she pleaded as tears fell down her cheeks. Wingspot took her face in his hands, wiping at her tears with his thumbs as he gazed into her optics.

"Go to the nest. I promise I will see you again. I _promise_," he assured her as he gazed into her crimson orbs, pouring his assurances and love through their trine bond. Dewdrop nodded shakily as she stared into her leader's optics. Wingspot looked so worried, so terrified for her, and with good reason. She was not a warrior. She was a bar femme. She would not be able to defend herself.

"I will," she replied, because she felt that Wingspot needed to hear her voice.

"I love you. May the winds be on your side, and may your wings bring you home," Wingspot breathed before he pulled her into a crushing hug, desperate to have touch-comfort in what could be his last moment with his third. Dewdrop saved those words as an audiofile in her processor, reinforcing that file with an extra firewall to protect it. When she had time, she'd log it and back it up so that nothing could delete it.

"I love you. I will return to you," she replied, her voice heavy with coming tears at the very thought that _Wingspot_ may be the one that doesn't return.

"Go. I will meet you at the nest, and I'll send Aero your way," Wingspot promised, and he rushed out of the barrier, transforming and jetting away without a pause.

"Bye," Dewdrop whispered back forlornly. She watched for only a klik as her trine leader flew away. She was the last Seeker in the café, and she couldn't stick around. With a new determination, she followed Wingspot's example, running through the barrier and leaping into the air, transforming mid-leap and shooting off as she did. She dodged gunfire as she flew, careful to keep her flight pattern unpredictable from the ground-pounders below as she flew due south toward the cliff that held her trine's nest. The abode would likely be destroyed, so—

The drones. Glam and Gizmo were still at the abode in Mideast Vos, where the transport ship had stopped. She shrieked loudly as she turned around mid-fight, momentum sending her south as she reactivated her thrusters and shot in a northern direction, trying without success to look down at the ground below her.

If one thought that it was bad seeing a massacre from the ground, then there were no words to describe how terrible the view from the sky was. She flew over unnoticed, using the smoke and subsequent darkness to hide herself as she activated stealth flight protocols. The streets were filled with both grounded Seekers and Seekers still needing their mid-cycle refuel, all of whom were easy pickings for the blue-opticed attackers. Wings that had been ripped off lay haphazardly around, causing a shudder to run down Dewdrop's spinal strut as she flew. The worst, by far, were the dead bodies and the huge puddles of energon. The ground was bathed in it. As she watched, Dewdrop caught sight of a mech's helm being lopped off, and she dropped a few feet in altitude before speeding up, as if she could outfly the horror below her. It was a nightmare, but worse; this attack was_ not possible_. This was _Vos_. The city in the sky. The land of the greatest flyers. They had gained the reputation to strike fear into the spark of every grounder, and they carefully kept that reputation with the help of rumors and easily scared grounders. They kept to themselves and made themselves untouchable. Yet… they were being attacked… It wasn't _possible._

She could still feel the third-hand pain of dying Seekers, but it seemed worse when she felt that pain directly after seeing a femme shot through the spark. She should help them. She _had_ to help them somehow. Her processor worked in overdrive alongside a rarely-used battle computer to find a solution, but none was forthcoming. She had no weapons, and though she had a battle computer, she had no combat experience or even any training. She was useless.

She couldn't understand this, couldn't understand why. These bots were innocent. What had the Seekers done to make these blue-opticed mechs want to destroy their Utopia? What had deed had warranted this kind of response? Sure, Seekers kept close tabs on their energon, but didn't they have that _right?_ The energon was in _Seeker territory_, mined _by Seekers._ Why did these grounders believe they had some sort of right to it?

And what if that wasn't why they were attacking? Were the blue-sight grounders attacking because Vos had peace? Did they think that if the upper caste had no peace, then Seekers had no right to it, either? Were they trying to bring Vos underneath their caste system as well? _Why?_

Dewdrop cried out when she felt particularly strong pang run through her spark. Airstream. Something happened to Airstream. She almost deviated from her course to find her friend but knew that was foolhardy. She could do nothing for her friend, and she'd be much better off searching for Glamour and Gizmo. Airstream's trine would find her and get her to a medic. Dewdrop would see her again. At least, that's what she kept telling herself as she flew silently over the tall buildings, twisting and weaving around cannon and plasma fire.

She slowed down a bit when she directed her attention on her destination. Something was happening up ahead, just over downtown Mideast. The ship… She felt horror flood her systems as she watched blue-opticed mechs drop from the ship to the ground below, repelling from thick cables as they pulled out weapons and opened fired on the Seekers flying away. She sped up as she approached her abode, the building being a scant twenty miles away from the ship. She would have a little time before the enemy would overrun her. She landed on the balcony to her berthroom and immediately ran over to the diagnostic machine, where Gizmo was already unplugging Glamour.

"Mistress! What are you doing here?!" Gizmo demanded when she started helping with the disconnect.

"I'm not leaving you two behind. You have sparks, you are living beings," she stated tersely as she unhooked the last plug from Glamour's helm. The baby blue drone's optics lit up dimly, listlessly landing on her host.

"Heeeyy, Dew…" she hummed.

"Reattach," Dewdrop ordered without hesitation. Glamour yawned as she obeyed, and Gizmo wasted no time. The two drones transformed down and connected with her shoulders, hardening up naturally. Dewdrop strode quickly to the small shelf by her trine's berth and grabbed the few holocubes that held image stills of her trine and close friends. She subspaced it before subspacing the datapad diary of her trine's travels, explorations, and activities beside it. Lastly, she grabbed the two datapads connected to the diagnostic machine that held all of her drones' medical history, one for Glamour and one for Gizmo.

As she glanced around to make sure she had absolutely everything she needed, she briefly caught sight of herself in the berthroom mirror. She stared, fixed-gazed at the mirror, studying the reflection. The femme that stared back was almost completely black with soot, small tints of light blue showing through. Red optics that looked nearly feral with their fear gazed back at her, holding her panicked gaze surreally. Her left and right shoulder armor was untouched, contrasting sharply with the black around it. Then the sound of an explosion accompanied by the feeling of the floor swaying beneath her broke her trance, and she glanced around again as she regained her bearings. She needed to leave while she still could. With everything important in her subspace, she jogged back to the balcony.

And froze when she got there and looked down.

Horror filled her systems as she stared down at the destruction ten floors below her. From this distance, she could still see the dead bodies and blue energon puddles. Femmes, mechs, even sparklings were not safe from these monsters. Smoke and fire filled the surrounding air, and collapsed buildings dotted the landscape. As she stood, the housing building to her left collapsed in on itself, bottom levels breaking down in a way that left the rest of the building unstable enough to fall over. She felt the floor tremor beneath her, and her spark sped up when she realized what was about to happen. Without hesitation, she took off, transforming just as the bottom floor of their apartment exploded outward violently. She activated her thrusters and shot off as quickly as she could, dodging plasmafire as she worked her way back up toward the smoke, reactivating her stealth to erase the sound from her thrusters and turbines and relishing in her feeling of safety when the ground-pounders lost sight of her in the black haze.

The flight back to Southeast Vos was worse than the flight to Mideast, though it hadn't seemed possible at the time. The body count below her had doubled, if not tripled, as had the carnage. It was like stepping into a horror flick. Limbs were strewn about, and the metal streets were bathed in energon. Seekers lay dead all over, corpses shadowed ominously in the light of the flaming buildings around them, flames that had blacked out the sky with their ash and smoke. Most bodies had another dead body on top, proof that other members of the trine attempted to protect their injured parties before dying as well. Her spark automatically reached out for her trine mates, but battle protocols from the other end blocked her access. The only feedback she received was blank nothingness. They could be dying at that very klik, and she wouldn't know until they finally passed and broke the bond. She wouldn't be able to say goodbye or retrieve anything from their subspace. A small sob escaped from her throat as she flew, and a small amount of comfort was sent from her drones through their symbiotic bond.

She flew like that for what felt like forever, only not noticing that the carnage slowly became less and less prominent the farther south she went. All she knew is that every time she looked down, she saw grayed-out bodies, energon, and blank, darkened optics staring back up at her in frozen terror and anger. Fewer shots were fired at her as the enemy slowly moved toward the center of Vos, likely headed toward the palace or the Elders' Temple. The few stragglers that caught sight of her would half-heartedly shoot at her, but most were too preoccupied with laughing at the dead, looting through the dead's subspace pockets, or breaking into abandoned stores, housing units, and energon pubs.

It was when she reached Southeast Vos that she encountered a new wave of blue-sight grounders. The only way she could tell that this was a new wave was because the colorful paintjobs were vastly different from the grays and blacks of the previous waves. The mechs were spread out, most being in a group of two or three with the occasional straggler. Each mech glanced up at her as she flew past, and each time, she would see them examining a body in search for life signs. This last wave was apparently supposed to make sure each Seeker was dead, though that didn't explain why none of them shot at her.

Still, her spark burned with hate. They had done this. They had destroyed her city, had killed its inhabitants. Her spark squeezed as she thought of the pain that had informed her of her friend's injuries. Airstream was her closest friend, and Dewdrop was more than certain that the pang had been announcing the femme's death.

Her best friend was dead. For some reason, her processor got caught on that thought.

_Airstream_ was _dead. _Her _best friend_ was… _dead._ It seemed surreal, impossible. She had just seen Airstream _last solar cycle_. How could she be gone? How could it be possible that Dewdrop wouldn't be seeing her again, talking to her again? Who was she going to gossip with? Who was going to give her the dirt on the metal-ore business?

A strange pain rose up in her spark, one that she had never experienced before, and she reached out to her trine mates again. Nothing. Panic and worry filled her. What if that pain was from one of them? What if they were dying? Why was this happening?! Why did the grounders choose to attack?

Dewdrop forced herself back on task as she passed over another blue-opticed mech. Green armor glinted in the sparse sunlight, most of the sun's rays having been blocked out by the smoke that rose off of fallen and burning buildings. She flew cautiously over him, wing sensors locked on his movement in case he decided to shoot. He watched her as she flew past but made no movements against her, returning to his task at hand once she was out of range. Dewdrop's spark sped up a bit at that, but she ignored it.

After what seemed like forever, she finally reached the cliff that served as Vos' southern border. She immediately shut off her thrusters as she transformed her frame to her primary mode, allowing herself to drop straight down toward the Sea of Rust without worry. Halfway down the cliff, she onlined her thrusters again and flew slowly into a hologram that gave the appearance of rocks. In actuality, the spot was the entrance to a small cave that was only about the size of her abode's berthroom. There was enough room to allow for a small washrack and an energon dispenser, but the rest was taken up by a large, thick pad made of a soft mesh metal.

A single glance around told her that she was alone in the nest, something that terrified her. She could still hear the sounds of war dimly, explosions and the occasional gunshot or scream, but most of the action had moved north, putting the noise out of range of the cave in the southern cliff. Her spark sank a little as she walked across the nest and sat down on the pad, resting her back against the far wall as she stared out at the hidden cave opening, waiting.

She sat like that for an undeterminable amount of time. It could have been a breem; it could have been an orn. Time no longer meant anything to her. All that mattered as she waited for her trine to appear was the emptiness in her spark, filled only by the pains of other Seekers.

Where were they? How long did it take for them to help with the evacuation? Were they safe still? Were they on their way? What if they were hurt? What if they were dying? She reached out through the bond with her trine again, calling pitifully and begging for a response, but no reply was forthcoming. Dewdrop was alone. She was… _alone._ As a Seeker, this idea, this reality, was a completely new experience. Seekers were never alone, especially thirds, whose trines were always careful to keep a bond open to. Even if they were trineless, a Seeker's creators kept the creator bond open until the Seeker found his or her other matches. "Alone" was impossible, yet… it was happening. Airstream was dead. Wingspot and Aerobatix were probably dying. Her city was in shambles. Her culture was destroyed. For all she knew, she might very well be the last living Seeker. She gave a small sob at that thought, worry and fear dimming her spark. A tear made its way down her cheek plating as she pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees as she curled into a sitting fetal position, back still against the wall and optics locked on the opening.

She was alone. What would she do? Where was she going to go? Would the grounders kill her like they killed her kin? Would they hunt her down? What if they were looking for her right now? What if they were torturing Aero or Wingspot for information about her whereabouts? And what if they found her? Would they kill her or turn her into some sort of experiment? Her spark skipped a beat at that thought. Being sliced open or having her wings dismantled only to appease grounder curiosity. Another wave of frightened tears ran down her face, leaving clear streams of coolant on both cheeks. She didn't want to become an experiment. She wanted life to return to how it was two days ago, back when everybot was alive, and the grounders hadn't attacked.

Another sob rose from her throat as she felt the phantom pain from hundreds of dying and bond-broken Seekers. They were still dying. The blue-sights were still killing them. How many more were there left to kill? How many more lives until she would be free of this lingering pain? How much more time before they found her cave?

**/Wingspot, please respond/**

**/Aerobatix, please respond/**

**/Aero? Are you there? Please say something/**

**/Wing? Aero? Don't let me die. Please… please don't leave me alone. I'll be good. Just don't leave me. Please come back. Don't leave me. Don't leave me/**

Her spark reached out pitifully to its other matches, and silence met her attempt. Her hands clenched around her knees, and she hid her face in her knees as she sobbed, no longer able to hold back her terrified cries.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, face buried in her knees as she sobbed. She eventually stopped crying, choosing instead to zone out, effectively taking herself out of her situation. She hid away her emotions as she stared out at the opening of her cave, the only evidence of her weakness being the two lines of dried blue energon on her face.

"**Mistress, there is an approaching spark signature." **It was the first time Gizmo had spoken during her breakdown, and he used their symbiotic bond to speak the words straight into her processor. His words effectively broke her from her funk, replacing her listlessness with more terror. She scrambled to her hands and knees, rushing on all fours into a corner that was shrouded with darkness. Her wings pressed against her back as she crouched down fearfully, staring at the opening with red optics that looked feral with their fear.

"Dewdrop?" a mech voice called out hesitantly. The baby blue femme froze at the voice. She recognized it, but she was unsure where she had heard it before. A purple Seeker landed in the opening, transforming into his bipedal mode as she touched down. "Dewdrop, Starscream sent me to find survivors. I can sense your spark. Don't be afraid," the mech stated, and the femme suddenly remembered where she had seen him.

He was Skywarp, the Royal Command Trine's third. Out of the three trine members, Skywarp was the mech that went out into public the most often, making appearances all over Vos with or without prior announcement. He enjoyed the night life of Vos, having spent countless lunar cycles at the clubs and bars. In fact, Dewdrop could vaguely recall a solar cycle when he came by Slipshot's. He had ordered some sort of hard high-grade with a sweet flavoring and had gotten completely overcharged that cycle. Though he had left her a generous tip, he had not returned after Starscream and Thundercracker had come to retrieve his drunken self. It had been quite amusing.

It would never happen again.

"Lord Skywarp," Dewdrop breathed, her voice skipping a little as relief flooded her. Skywarp breathed his own sigh of relief as he strode over to her, a small, weak smile on his faceplates.

"Wingspot was worried you didn't get out in time," he murmured as he knelt in from of her curled up form. "Come. Lord Megatron, the leader of the military faction charged with bringing down the caste system, has offered asylum to all Seekers left homeless from the attack."

"But Vos…" Dewdrop began, trailing off when she saw Skywarp's look of pain.

"She is lost to us," he whispered, his voice devastated.

"No," Dewdrop breathed in horror. Skywarp wasted no more time. He wrapped his arms around his subject, one around her shoulders and the other underneath her knee joints. Dewdrop tucked her face into her leader's shoulder as she cried. She didn't take notice as the world around her disappeared in a flash of purple or when it reappeared in the form of a dull gray metal room filled to the brim with other survivors.

"Dewdrop," an achingly familiar voice called, deep voice filled with worry. Dewdrop lifted her helm to look at the mech just as Skywarp transferred her into his arms.

"Aero," she sobbed as she lifted herself to wrapped her arms around his neck. The purple mech, her second, let her legs drop as he wrapped both his arms around her just below her wings, pressing his chest against hers desperately to reassure his spark that she was _there_, that she was _alive_. Dewdrop pressed herself against him for similar reassurance, tucking her head into his shoulder as she cried. "She's gone. Airstream's _gone_, and I thought you two were gone, and I thought I was _alone_, and I didn't want to be alone, and I thought the blue-sights were gonna find me, and I didn't wanna die without you two!"

She continued to blubber out her past fears and worries as she sobbed. Aero remained silent as she cried, listening to her voice and holding her as she worked the last solar cycle out of her system. Primus. It had only been a solar cycle—not even a full solar cycle at that!—since everything was perfect. It had taken those Pitspawn Autobots only a few joors to destroy everything they held dear. How was that possible? How could everything turn so horrible so quickly?

Why would they do that to another bot?

It was the same question every Seeker was silently asking as they comforted each other. As Aero glanced around, he could see that only one or two Seekers had been added to the room of survivors, a group that was only a fraction of what the population had been. Seekers and Seekesses kept in close contact with their surviving trine members, and Aero could already see broken trines accepting now-trineless mechs and femmes into their hold. It was something he loved about his race: they were accepting, forgiving, and refused to watch kin suffer, even if it meant reacquiring a trine member before the lost one was properly mourned.

"Starscream is arriving," Skywarp announced suddenly. Murmurs and sobs filled the room as the door on the far side opened. Dewdrop looked up and turned to see Lord Starscream himself walk in with a large, intimidating silver mech to his immediate right. The mech had thick armor, most of which ended in jagged points to be used as a weapon of sorts if any opponent tackled him, and his fingers tapered off into claws, something that signified wealth in Vos. His optics were military crimson, holding a strange sort of determination and… sympathy? No. There was little sympathy. He seemed… proud… as if he had succeeded in some sort of game. Of course, at that point, Starscream's two guardsmechs stepped in beside him, and Dewdrop lost sight of all else.

"Wingspot!" she shouted as she sprinted to his side, yanking herself from Aero's arms as she shoved past mourning Seekers to get to her trine leader.

"Dew!" Aero called after her as he quickly followed her, attempting to grab her before she made a fool of their leader. She was too quick, though and didn't slow down as she tackled the silver and black guardsmech. Wingspot grunted as he took a few steps back to keep from falling over with Dewdrop's momentum. He forced his weapon back into subspace as he wrapped his arms around his third, frowning down at her as she buried her face in his chest, listening intently to his sparkpulse.

"I thought you were dead," she whimpered as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Wingspot looked up at the two leaders with a slightly pained expression. Megatron gazed back at him with a single raised optic ridge, obviously unused to seeing such a spectacle. Starscream, however, looked on the lesser trine leader with an expression of understanding and gave the guardsmech a single nod in response to his questioning look. Wingspot vented in relief.

"My thanks, my lords. Dewdrop, let us stand near Aerobatix," Wingspot murmured as he guided his compliant third back toward the crowd of surviving Seekers.

"I can see now why you wished to bring as many of your survivors here as possible, Lord Starscream," the tall silver mech stated as he watched the guardsmech lead the femme back to a mech that Megatron presumed was the last member of their trine.

"Yes. We Seekers are loyal first to each other, but after that, we are loyal to those that deserve such loyalty," Starscream responded before he turned his attention to the small crowd that held little more than fifty Seekers. "My fellow Seekers," he began, easily gaining the attention of his subjects, "We have been wronged greatly in the last cycle, and we know who has done this terrible deed. Lord Megatron has promised us asylum with his cause, and he has offered us a chance at justice toward the blue-sighted Autobots that would leave us homeless. You will not be forced from your trine, neither will you be forced to fight. Megatron has noted a need for bodyguards, medics, scientists, and engineers, all of which I know Seekers could excel at. If you wish to leave, to return and attempt to rebuild in Vos, I will not begrudge you. However, my trine and I will remain here, and I will be serving as Megatron's Second in Command and Air Commander."

If the chance at justice didn't guarantee the Seekers' involvement in the war, that last sentence did. No Seeker would abandon their Command Trine. No, they would join up with these Decepticons and make these blue-sighted Autobots pay.

Nobody messed with Seekers without retribution, and retribution would be _exactly_ what the Autobots got.

* * *

**The Cybertonium Warrior:** Teehee. Don't let the Seeker hear you say that! That would be dangerous to your person!

**Guest:** Here ya go

**WeLonelyOldSouls:** There really isn't any Seeker lore out there. All of it is fanmade. The good majority of the Seeker stuff in this is created by me for this story in particular. I love AU :)


	4. Chapter 3

1) Starscream always struck me as a guy who could be a benevolent ruler who actually cares for his subjects. I could view him as the guy that knew everyone's name (after all, very few Seekers died and there was only a new sparkling every vorn or so), and I could see him as the mech that went out to city events and fought with his army. Needless to say, this view - my view - of him is seen in this chapter and chapters to follow.

2) There will be no update next week as I will be on vacation. My next update will be on Friday, Aug 8.

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Chapter 3

12,566 words

* * *

"Dewdrop. Dew, it's time to online," a deep voice hummed. The light blue femme in question hummed lightly as she snuggled closer to the warm chest in front of her.

"Nooo…" she mumbled as she nuzzled her helm into Aero's warm chassis, delighting in the sound of his spark, the feel as it matched her own through their trine bond.

**/Dewdrop, we have to get up. We need to get our rations before the rec room fills up/**

_That_ woke her up. Confused red optics dimly lit up as she rolled onto her back to gaze up at her leader who was standing beside the berth with an indecipherable expression on his face. Aero groaned loudly in irritation as he wiggled closer to his third, seeking out her warmth in his recharge. He wrapped his arms around her waist and plopped his helm down on her chest plating just over her spark, sighing heavily in comfort as his systems cycled back into recharge.

"I don't understand… Rec room…?" she asked, her processor slowly booting up as she onlined fully.

"Yes, Dewdrop. We are with the Decepticons, remember?" he reminded her gently. Just like that, her processor flicked on, and memories of the last few cycles flashed through her mind. Vos… the attack… the massacre. Tears came to her optics as visions of carnage and death filled her processor. "Aw, Dew," Wingspot sighed as he cupped her cheek with his hand.

"Dew…?" Aero asked groggily as he lifted his helm to squint at her, able to feel her turmoil through the bond, though not awake enough to ascertain the cause. "'S'okay. We're 'ere," he slurred as he dropped his helm back onto her chest. Wingspot rolled his optics at his second before turning his attention back to his third, who was slowly composing herself.

"It's okay to cry, Dew. It's okay to be sad about what we've lost. Just know that we will punish the ones who did this to us," Wingspot stated as he ran a hand over the top of her wing lovingly. She relaxed slightly at the understanding touch and purred lightly as he continued stroking her wing. It was such a relaxing feeling, much like a grounder getting a massage.

"What if we can't? What if the Autobots win and can do this to other cities?" she asked lowly. Wingspot scowled as he looked away.

"Apparently, they have. Nova Cronum has been destroyed multiple times by the Autobots, and apparently they had something to do with the destruction of Praxus," Wingspot growled, and Dewdrop frowned at the fury in his spark.

"Wing? Everything's going to be okay, right? We have each other. Loyalty to the trine," she whispered as she reached out to take his hand in her own. Wingspot smiled down at her before turning his attention to the lug that had attached himself to her chassis.

"Okay, Aero. Time to get up," Wingspot stated. A feeling of mischievousness filtered through the bond from the leader as he gripped the base of Aero's wings, and Aero's optics flashed on when Wingspot hauled him off the bed by his wings. Aero flailed momentarily before Wingspot dumped him on the ground unceremoniously.

"Wiiiing," Aero whined as he rubbed his dented aft. The trine leader only smiled down at his second.

"My Dewdrop isn't your recharge comfort doll," Wingspot stated with a wide grin. Aero glared up at him from the floor as he rose to his pedes. His optics dimmed a bit as he checked his internal chronometer, then he scowled at his leader.

"Why the frag are we up this early?" he demanded. Wingspot shrugged.

"Lord Megatron and Lord Starscream have asked that each Seeker be refueled and in the conference room within the next three breems," Wingspot stated. The younger trine members froze before rushing to their pedes.

"Why didn't you say we'd be short on time?" Aero demanded as he rushed to the washracks to check his reflection. His paint was scratched and scuffed, and it still sported a few burn marks from the battle yesterday. He wouldn't even have time to clean himself up before this meeting with his new faction leader! A glance back at Dewdrop, who was leaning on Wingspot limply with her face tucked into his chest as he hugged her with a slightly concerned expression, showed that she had fared little better. Soot and dust darkened her baby blue armor, and her armor was also scuffed like his, though his was decidedly worse. He grimaced. She should be able to look beautiful when she first officially met her new leader. These ground-pounders should be able to see _exactly_ what a Seekess looked like and why exactly the Seeker race was so far above them.

"Come on, Aero. None of us will look good. She's still one of the few femmes on base, if you really want her to be stared at," Wingspot said, his voice mildly disapproving. Aero's fists clenched as he strode over to their side.

"We shouldn't be here. It's partially these ground-pounders' fault we're here. Why should we help them?" the purple mech questioned irately. Wingspot fixed him with a disappointed look.

"Because we are Seekers, and it is the right thing to do. How else do you plan to return the favor to the Autobots? Going to take on their army by yourself? Going to send in Dewdrop to infiltrate?" Aero looked away angrily, but Wingspot could feel his understanding. "Patience. Our time will come," the dirty, silver mech assured him. Aero sighed but nodded.

"Good. Let's go refuel," Dewdrop huffed as she pushed away from her leader and started toward the door. The two mechs glanced at each other before quickly following after her.

The trip to the rec room was… weird, at least to Dewdrop, it was. Wingspot walked resolutely in front of her, wings shielding other Decepticons from seeing her as they approached. That didn't keep said Decepticons from staring at her as they walked past. Aerobatix walked behind her, wing sensors on high in case a Decepticon that had just passed decided to come back and attempt conversation. It had been a stressful couple of cycles, and none of the trine members really felt like being social to strangers.

There was little traffic on the hallways, most bots either on shift or just waking up to refuel and start their shifts. The few bots they passed either stared unashamedly at the trine or sneered at them, an action that was returned by the mechs. Dewdrop kept her optics firmly on the wings in front of her, not wanting to deal with any grounders just yet. She would be dealing with them for the next few vorns—assuming the war lasted that long—and she wanted to put off dealing with them for as long as possible.

The rec room, as expected, was filled up with Seekers by the time they got there. Most were on their pedes, grimacing at the flavor of the grounders' energon or generally looking uncomfortable at the confined space. Ceilings were never this low in Seeker buildings. They always stood tall enough that a Seeker could take to the air if he or she felt too confined. Wingspot moved his wings closer together as he started making his way through the crowd toward the energon dispenser. Seekers instinctively moved out of the way as he approached, none of them wanted to be jostled or touched after the disaster of two lunar cycles ago. Primus, had it really only been two lunar cycles ago?

**/They all look broken/** Dewdrop noted with a small frown. **/Do we look like that?/**

Wingspot glanced around the dispenser, looking for the cubes to fill as he answered. **/Yes. We are not unaccustomed to battles, but such needless killing... No bot can walk away from this experience without some sort of scar./**

"Where are the cubes?" Wingspot mumbled aloud.

"Press the button, and it dispenses a closed-off cube that's already been filled. I think it's to make sure nobody takes extra," a yellow Seekess said softly from their right. Wingspot frowned as he pressed the button in the center of the dispenser. As promised, a medium-sized cube of shimmering blue energon dropped down into the square opening for the trine leader to take. "It tastes awful," the Seekess added as she turned to face the trine more fully. Dewdrop could see the glyph that identified the femme as her trine's third on her left collar strut. The mech beside her, a burly black Seeker that shifted closer anytime she moved, had the same paint scheme and the glyph for trine leader on his own collar strut. There was no matching second nearby them.

"Well, it definitely isn't as glamorous as the means of getting energon in Vos, but I suppose that beggars cannot be choosers," Wingspot stated diplomatically as he handed the cube to his third. Dewdrop grimaced at the energon as she peeled the square lid off and took a sip.

"Oh, gross!" she hissed as she fought back the urge to spit it back out. Wingspot grimaced at that. It did not bode well if an E-S Seeker didn't like the taste. There were very few flavors that Dewdrop didn't like, and most of them were repugnant to the rest of her trine. "Hold this," Dewdrop ordered as she reached into her subspace and pulled out three containers of spices. "Disengage," she mumbled as she started opening one of the containers. Gizmo separated first and transformed into his bipedal mode as he shot off from her right shoulder.

"Greetings, mistress. It is good to know that you have not been terribly injured during the fight," Gizmo stated evasively with a small smile as he took one of the containers from her hands. Of course, that was when Glamour finally onlined.

"Dew! Oh, Primus, Dew! Are you okay?! Dew, answer me, Dew!" Glamour blabbered as she disengaged and transformed so that she could float right in front of her host's faceplates.

"I'm alive, Glamour. That is all I can say on the subject at the moment," Dewdrop responded as she handed the drone a container.

"What _are_ those?" the yellow Seekess asked, not impolite but curious. Dewdrop smiled slightly as she started adding spices to the cube in Aero's hand.

"Spark drones," she responded easily. A few more Seekers turned their gazes toward the mini-flyers as they floated obediently in front of their mistress.

"I had heard rumors and read theories… Are they slaves?" the black mech asked, optics locked on the drones' movements.

"A slave?! What a ridiculous notion!" Gizmo exclaimed, easily answering for himself. "I enjoy living and working with Mistress Dewdrop. If I wished to leave or change my occupation, she would allow me to do so without hesitation. We stay with her because while she is her trine's third, she acts as our trine leader." Dewdrop sent praise through the symbiotic bond to her mech drone at the smart comparison as understanding swept through the crowd of Seekers. Dewdrop smiled as she took the cube back from her second and lifted it to her lip components.

"Hmm. Not as good as reg-grade, but it'll do," she hummed as she traded her spiced cube with one of the unenhanced ones in Wingspot's hands and began spicing that one, too.

"Wait. You're an E-S mixer?" a nearby green Seeker mech asked, optics wide. Dewdrop opened her mouth to speak before she caught Wingspot's hesitant concern. She faltered a bit before wordlessly nodding. "Then spice my energon! I can't stand this slag!" the mech snapped. Dewdrop frowned as she handed the cube to Aero and claimed the last cube from her leader, who appeared to be tensing up in preparation should the green mech make a move.

"I don't have enough spices for that," Dewdrop lied simply. If she spiced this mech's cube, the others would expect the same treatment, and she _didn't_ have enough spices for every Seeker in the room.

"Yet you have enough for these two?" the mech growled as he took a step forward. Wingspot's turbines whirred as his engine growled, wings rising in an instinctual attempt to make himself look bigger and more intimidating to the threatening mech. It apparently worked, as the green mech took an uncertain step back, glancing down at his pedes.

"You would have me cater to your needs before the needs of my trine?" Dewdrop questioned, a dark timbre in her voice. The mech glanced up, optics pink in alarm before he shook his head vigorously. "Good," she huffed as she reclaimed the two spice containers from her drones, closing them before she placed them in subspace. "Reattach," she ordered gently. The two drones immediately obeyed, both more than happy to be able to siphon off some of the energy she would get while refueling. Dewdrop huffed a small laugh at her drones' semi-selfish thoughts as she took a sip from her cube.

Yeah. Definitely not Seeker energon, but she wouldn't complain. Not when it could be so much worse. The energon slid down her throat thickly, meaning the Decepticons obviously hadn't wanted to spend the credits or time fully refining it before giving it to their army. The second the energon hit her tank, her body worked at processing it, sending some of it to her pump to be processed into life-energon, some of it to her flight systems to keep her flight-ready, and some of it was siphoned off to the drones physically attached to her systems via special neural networks and energon lines in her shoulders. Most of it went to her flight systems, though, the most necessary system according to her Seeker programming.

**/Well, I'll never complain about that bitter slag you like anymore; this is way worse/**

**/Sorry, Aero. I'll try a different mixture next time/**

**/Aw, it's all good, Dew. I guess this slag still tastes better than what everyone else is forcing into their systems/**

**/Very true. Now, both of you, finish your energon so that we can report to Megatron/**

The two youngest trine members nodded as they obeyed their leader's wordless command, and a breem later, they were walking down the hall with a small crowd of Seekers toward the Decepticon conference room, used mainly for crew meetings and treaty debates.

**/Everybot we pass keeps glaring at us. This leader won't be prejudiced, will he?/**

**/Perhaps, but should we really judge him, Dew? We Seekers are not known for being friendly to ground-bound mechs./**

**/I'm just saying. I don't want to work for someone worse than Quality/**

Quality. Had he gotten out alive? Was he okay? Dewdrop looked down as she thought about all the bots that had been lost in the attack, bots that might still be dying or lost. What had they done to deserve this? They were innocents, killed for simply existing in a city-state that was not ground-bound. It wasn't fair.

**/We will give them justice, Dewdrop/ **Wingspot promised as they walked into the conference room. It was a large room, far larger than the rec room, and Dewdrop could already see many of the Seekers relaxing at the sight of the high ceiling as the filtered into the room to take a seat at the huge rectangular table. Trines—or what was left of them—sat beside each other, some scooting down when requested by another trine, and once every seat was taken up, Seekers began gathering loosely around the table, none getting too close to the wings of a mech or femme that was seated. Wingspot led his trine toward the head of the table and stood tensely behind a black Seeker mech. The three seats across from them, as well as the seat at the head of the table, were kept empty for the coming leaders.

Whispered conversations rose in the background as they waited. Mutterings of lost trine members and sentimentalities were passed around, whispers of assurance and condolences added for effect. Every now and again a small whimper or a venting sigh would fill the air, but no loud noises above that. It was as if the room was in wait for some great occurrence, as if they were expecting a great announcement. Perhaps they were. Perhaps some were hoping to receive news of a loved one or news about the city. Dewdrop would admit to holding such hope if she had any energy to hope _with_. She was spent, though. She knew her city was dead. She knew that her people were scattered and that few survivors would be found. She knew that whatever news Lords Megatron and Starscream discovered, it would not be positive. There was no way it could be.

Starscream and Megatron's entrance into the room seemed anti-climactic. The leaders strode in without any sort of fanfare and took their seats. The two lesser Royal Command Trine members followed stiffly after their leader, both showing signs of fatigue, as did Starscream. They had likely been looking for survivors all lunar cycle. Megatron took the seat at the head of the table while Starscream took the seat to his right, Thundercracker and Skywarp seating themselves in the second and third seats beside him. There was a beat of silence as all attention locked on the leaders before Starscream finally spoke.

"We have spent the lunar cycles searching Vos for survivors. While a few have been found… I regret to say that the city is lost. The library, the Temple, the palace… Everything was destroyed in the attack. The few survivors we found have been taken to the medbay and will be released within the next joor or two depending on the severity of the wounds. You are not to go to the medbay until all Seekers have been released unless you are injured yourself or are assigned to train there.

"The few Seekerlings and Seeklets we found were sent to our haven, along with any surviving Elders. So far, Elder Nightwing and Elder Swiftlift have been rescued. The other have not been heard or seen, but you know that that means little. We have a small group of caregivers and guardsmechs protecting the haven, so I trust that they will be well protected, if not by the secrecy of the place, then by the firepower there." Starscream grimaced a bit as he glanced down the table at the Seekers staring at him with various looks of sparkbreak, anger, and dismay. He sighed as he glanced at his trine mates before addressing the small crowd again.

"Now… I suppose our next important point is our trine… status." Starscream paused as a pained expression passed his face. All trine leaders had a light bond with the Command Trine Leader. It was something that came with the trine leader programming and protocols. It was what connected and unified all Seekers alive, and while it was a good thing for Vos and her people since all bond-loss pain was shared… it meant that Starscream's pain and the pain of the Command Trine had been exponentially worse than the phantom pains that Dewdrop had felt during the massacre.

"Those who have lost a trine member, we will have a short trining exercise to see if you are compatible with any of the trineless Seekers. The trineless who cannot find somebot compatible will have the option of forcing a trine bond, eliminating trine protocols and programming—"

A loud gasp rose from every Seeker in the room, horror and terror filling the winged bots. A life without a trine bond was no life at all, but a life without the _ability_ to trine? It had never been done before, mainly because a Seeker would rather go insane from bond-loss than lose the ability to bond again.

"—Or you may be put in stasis until the end of the war, at which time, you will be onlined again once the Seeker population has begun to grow again. Or, of course, you may choose termination. I know many of you would prefer that to being trineless for that long," Starscream added sympathetically. There were nods of acknowledgment from most of the Seekers, though most still looked shell-shocked by his suggestion. There was another brief moment of relative silence, a few bots murmuring to their neighbors, before Megatron spoke up.

"Now that that's done," Megatron began, "I have spoken to all of the Decepticon department heads to ascertain where the most help is needed. Starscream and I spoke last cycle and did research into each of you to ascertain where each Seeker could go to lend their strengths. Starscream has already informed me that battle-ready trines will only go to battle if every trine member is able, and he has spoken to me about your need to fly. At the end of this meeting, you will be assigned a department to report to, and your trine leaders will be given a designated flying time. In addition to that, each trine will be given a training slot and a combat trainer. We do not want any of you defenseless against our enemies. Starscream himself has offered to train you in flight combat. I have faith that you all will settle in nicely. Do _not_ let me down. You will receive a datapad filled with rules and procedures. Memorize them. I will not allow for any disharmony in my army."

The meeting moved rather swiftly after that. Dewdrop was assigned to the medbay, Starscream citing her work with energon, her repair work on Glamour, and her cooperative attitude as good reasons why. Wingspot was assigned to engineering and given the task of creating and dealing with fragile parts of machines and weapons, a position he gained due to his past experience helping Starscream build Dewdrop's spark drones. Aero, however, was given the task of a personal assistant to the main security officer, who basically gave him the position of a go-fer. It wasn't something the purple Seeker bragged about. The Seeker recruits were given a quarter joor (1.5 hrs) to vaguely acquaint themselves with the Decepticon protocols before reporting to their new department heads. Dewdrop and her trine spent most of that time in their temporary quarters, the femme curled up in Aero's lap, leaning forward against his chest and listening to him as he hummed a Vosonian lullaby and rubbed her wings. Aero and Wingspot were sitting back-to-back as Wingspot actually followed the orders and glanced over the Decepticon protocols, making either agreeable or concerned noises.

"Our time is almost up," Aero murmured in his tenor voice. Dewdrop sighed as she curled her legs up a little tighter.

"I don't wanna separate. This is moving too fast," she whispered into her chest.

"It will only be a few joors, no different than a work cycle," Wingspot said gently from behind them. There was a short pause before he made a weird noise of concern in his throat. Aerobatix paused in his ministrations to glance over his wing at their leader.

"What was _that_?" the second asked curiously. Wingspot made another noise, though this one held a bit of irritation.

"These protocols… some of them concern me," he stated as he studied the datapad. "'If a fellow mech is injured on the field, a Decepticon's first concern is to save the one most likely to survive. If it is not possible to save the life while protecting the warrior's own life, the injured mech is to be left behind.' It seems… barbaric almost, leaving an injured mech behind like that," he continued.

"Yeah, but this _is_ war, and they _are_ grounders. I bet they don't even understand that the more warriors, the bigger chance of success," Dewdrop retorted bitterly as she checked her internal chronometer. It was time to go. She would want to be in the medbay with a little bit of time to spare, just in case she got lost.

"I have to go. You'll contact me when you hear anything?" Dewdrop questioned as she rose to her pedes, ignoring Aero's irritated groan. Likewise, Wingspot rose to his pedes, turning to face his third as he ignored his second's mumblings about not having any trine time together anymore.

"Of course, Dew," the leader responded. "When you get back, we'll head to the washracks. Starscream said there would be one set aside for the Seekers." Dewdrop nodded before walking toward the door. "And Dew," Wingspot called after her, causing her to pause at the door's entrance. "_Try_ to get along with the grounders. For me?" Dewdrop turned her angry gaze toward the ground.

"I'll try. Don't hold it against me, though," she responded lowly. Wingspot smiled at her anyways.

"May the winds be on your side, and may your wings bring you home," he called after her. Dewdrop smiled at him fondly.

"I will return to you," she promised, and she left the room.

* * *

Dewdrop was hesitant as she approached the waiting room, which was the first room that anyone entered when headed to the medical sector of the base. Through there, a bot could enter the medbay through the single sliding door. Dewdrop moved slow as she made her way past the waiting room and toward the medbay door, not particularly looking forward to seeing what was on the other side. Of course, she couldn't hold off forever, especially now that the few other medical Seekers had arrived. With a small sigh, she pulled herself to stand proudly as she strode into the bay.

Organized chaos. That was how she would describe it. There were medical grounders puttering around everywhere, grabbing various medical items and checking on offline Seeker survivors and injured Decepticon warriors. Dewdrop's wings drooped a little as she stepped fully into the bay, pointedly ignoring the four other new medical Seekers behind her. She gripped her datapad tightly as she grabbed the arm of a passing mech.

"What?" he snapped, red optics glinting irately. Dewdrop frowned.

"I'm, uh, looking for Chopshop?" she asked hesitantly, feeling quite out of her comfort zone as she looked around at the injured bots and noticed all the equipment that she couldn't recognize or name.

"Oh, you must be the newbies. _Joy_. Chopshop's in his office. Go bother him so that _I_ can get back to work," the red mech said loftily as he gestured vaguely toward the door near the back of the bay. Dewdrop vented as the mech walked away without a backward glance and turned her attention to the door near the back of the medbay.

"We gotta head back there," she said to the Seekers behind her. The four Seekers nodded disjointedly before following the femme toward the room as one. The door she was headed toward was a part of the two walls that sectioned off a small part of the medbay, taking up only a fourth of the back wall so that medibots could use the door on the back wall that attached the bay to the surgical wards. She knocked once on the door, then waited a few kliks. Nothing happened, so she knocked again. There was the sound of a minor crash behind the door, and Dewdrop resisted the urge to wince as she waited.

"Primus fraggit!" The door hissed open, and Dewdrop grimaced. "Well, get the frag in here!" a mech snapped. Dewdrop frowned, but obeyed, ignoring the Seekers behind her.

The office was small and cluttered, datapads stacked up on almost every surface. The furniture was Spartan at best, having only a desk with a chair on each side and a small berth against the wall to her right. The wall that cut off the office from the medbay had a wall-length one-way window that offered the CMO a full view of the 'bay.

The CMO himself was a piece of work. Black and purple armor meshed together in a mess of paint. Honestly, it looked like a youngling had randomly painted his armor different dark shades of the two colors before he had them installed. On his shoulders were red crosses that marked him as a medic, and over his optics was a red visor that likely allowed him to display a mech's stats before his optics as he operated. Dewdrop didn't hesitate in walking straight up to his desk and placing the datapad that held her orders onto the desk before her new commanding officer. The mech grumbled as he snatched the pad up and activated it.

"Ah, you must be the new scrap brought in fr'm Vos," Chopshop rumbled with a scowl as he rose to his pedes from behind his desk. Dewdrop's wings rose in anger at his rude comment, and she could sense the Seekers behind her tensing in equal offense, but they remained silent nonetheless.

"We are the new recruits who joined to get justice on the monsters that destroyed our city," Dewdrop responded coolly. Chopshop looked surprised—or was that confusion?—for a klik before his face regained its scowl.

"Ah. The refugees. Well, it says here that yer my new apprentices. Wonderful," he mumbled, looking and sounding rather irritated by this fact. "Well, here with the Decepticons, you get most of yer training hands-on. We don't have time for you to dilly-dally 'round, readin' medical texts and journals. Here, you work on a mech 'til he dies, and after he dies, you put him with the corpses to be scrapped. Don't get attached to anybot, because they'll probably die in the end, and I ain't playin' counselor for any 'a you flybots." The Seekers exchanged glances at this, not sure whether to be concerned or affronted, but Chopshop continued before any of them had a chance to ask questions.

"You'll be given a medic to train under, and you'll be given an orn to become useful. I don't need any slow-learners in my medbay, and I won't hesitate to kick you out and have you reassigned if you start laggin' behind. This is the army, and playtime has _ended_. Here, you will adopt the kill-or-be-killed thought process, because Autobots don't want us alive to bring our soldiers back to fightin' order, compute?"

The Seekers nodded slowly, not really sure if this was a good idea. That was apparently all Chopshop needed, though, as he turned his attention to a datapad in his hand.

"Flyhigh, yer with Hook. He's a perfectionist, so don't screw up. Cloudrush, yer with Chemical. He's a bit unstable, but he's relatively laid back. Don't screw up. Skyride, yer with Rebuild, who hates everybody. I'd suggest you don't screw up. Dewdrop—Primus, who _names_ you flybots?—yer with Knockout. He's fragging good at his job, so stay out of his way and don't screw up. Skysplice, yer with me, so you sure as slag better not screw up. Since I hate yer Autobot-weak names, I've given yer trainers the right to rename you, because I ain't yellin' wussy names out in my medbay, compute?" There were scattered nods, and Chopshop's scowl grew angry. "I said, COMPUTE?!"

"Yes, sir!" the Seekers exclaimed as one, each looking as shaken up as the other. All, except for Dew. She scowled lightly at her CMO, suddenly having flashbacks of Quality. She didn't let that fragger walk over her, and she sure as slag wasn't going to let this _ground-pounder_ put her down. Chopshop's optics surveyed the group before landing on the femme at the front. He sneered.

"You got somethin' you wanna say?" he questioned. Dewdrop scowled at him.

"I'm not afraid of you," she stated. Chopshop studied her for a klik, taking in her proud stance and determined optics before combating her scowl with a dark, malicious grin of his own.

"We'll see 'bout that," he rumbled, optics narrowing behind his visor. "Report to yer supervisors. And Dewdrop," he called out as the bots started to leave. Dewdrop felt a small jolt of surprise at the fact that he knew who she was. "I'll be watchin' you."

Dewdrop scowled as she stomped out of the office and looked around the medbay. "Where's Knockout?" she questioned as passing medic. The burly mech scowled down at her, but pointed to the left at the red grounder that had pointed her to the CMO's office. She vented as she made her way over to him, then grimaced when he caught sight of her and scowled.

"Oh, _joy_, I get _you_?" he asked irritably. Dewdrop scowled.

"Hey, at least I know a spark pump from a stomach tank," she snapped. Knockout gave her a weird look, then snorted in amusement as he smirked at her.

"I suppose that _would_ be a good thing for you to know. I don't suppose you happen to know how to realign a malfunctioning O₂ pump or how to replace a shorted internal chronometer," he questioned snobbishly. Dewdrop hummed lightly.

"I thought that was what you were here for: to teach me the hard stuff," she responded. Knockout scoffed.

"That's the _easy_ stuff, gorgeous. Just wait until we have you welding and patching up a bot's internals while he's gushing energon. _That's_ when it gets _really_ exciting," Knockout responded evenly with a smirk.

"I might not make it that far," she warned him, thoughts going back to the conversation with Chopshop. Knockout gave her a weird grin that was a combination of dark amusement and honest reassurance.

"Don't worry, sweetspark. I've got too much _pride _to let one of _my_ apprentices to fail in front of the CMO. Shut up and pay attention, and you might actually survive this place."

Strangely enough, that statement reassured her. Survival was apparently something that had worried her. There were too many changes happening too swiftly, and Dewdrop wasn't quite sure what would happen if she failed to adapt. Apparently, Knockout wasn't going to let her fail, and for some reason, even if it was for his own ego, that made her feel much better.

"Chopshop said you would be redesignating me for the time being," Dewdrop stated lowly as she surreptitiously glanced around at the other Seekers. None seemed to be hitting it off like she was with Knockout. Perhaps he really was more laid back than the other medics. It begged the question as to why the medics were so… well, rude and uncaring. Weren't medics supposed to be kind and reassuring? Even while Knockout had reassured her, it had been in a sarcastic and negative way. How strange.

"I suppose so. Dewdrop, right? How can we make a name like _'Dewdrop'_ more menacing? How did you end up with that name, anyways?" Knockout asked as he pulled a cloth out and started rubbing it against a grease spot on his forearm.

"I'm a rainmaker. I create H₂O by reforming molecules in the air and changing the temperature around them," Dewdrop responded easily. Knockout paused in his rubbing to look at his new apprentice.

"_Really_? How utterly useless. Very well, I suppose we could call you Acidrain and—"

"That name's taken by a rainmaker that can make and control acid rain," Dewdrop interjected evenly. Knockout scowled at her, looking rather put out as he reconsidered.

"Torrent. It's easy, ironic, and it slides off the glossa. Learn it, live it, love it. Now, let's go weld a mech's leg back onto his frame."

And the shift began.

* * *

By the end of the joor, Dewdrop was sure of one thing only: being a medic was not going to be easy, and it probably wouldn't be much fun, either. As it turned out, sedatives and painkillers were expensive to manufacture and therefore, were saved for the command and for extreme cases. For some strange reason, welding a leg back onto a mech's frame was not considered "extreme." More so, Knockout had actually laughed at her when she had suggested putting the mech under.

"You think this mech would _want_ to be offline while in Chopshop's medbay? Think again," Knockout had stated. He turned his gaze to the femme as he continued to clean up after the surgery, a surgery that should have been on an unconscious mech. "There's something you're going to learn here: Never trust anybot. You learn that now, and you might actually _survive_ here."

"But… that mech was in so much pain. I could see it in his optics," she claimed, distressed by what she had witnessed. How had that surgery been any better than torture? Surely, the mech would have felt no difference between the two experiences. Knockout only scoffed.

"We're in a war, Torrent," Knockout said sounding rather irritated by Dewdrop's refusal to drop the subject. "Here, weakness means death. If the mech was honestly in _that much_ pain, he would have gone into a medical stasis. Primus, it wasn't like he was _screaming_ or anything."

"Yeah, but—"

"Torrent, _sweetspark_, pain relief is for the mechs up top. Our job is to fix the injured 'cons that come in here, not to question how or why we do things. Adapt or Chopshop _will_ kick you out, compute?" Dewdrop stared at her mentor for a few kliks, taking in his flawless paint and his irritated red optics. She wondered idly if he would keep those views if it was _him_ that had been under that welder and laser scalpel. Nevertheless, he had a point. If painkillers were so hard to come by, it would stand to reason that they would go to the highest ranking bots, she supposed. Still, she was certain that if Starscream was laid out next to a low-class Seeker with identical wounds, he would allow the lower-classed Seeker have the painkillers. Not because he would feel that mech's pain, but because he was a _good leader._ Then again, what did that say about Lord Megatron's leading skills and philosophies?

"I understand, Knockout," she finally conceded, gaining a strangely successful smirk from her mentor, as if her acceptance of this fact had been one of his goals for the joor.

From then on, Dewdrop was silent, contemplating what she had been told. Her processor flashed back to what Wingspot had said about the Decepticon protocols and procedures, about how barbaric they seemed. She grimaced a bit. They _were_ only ground-pounders. Maybe they didn't understand that pain was bad…?

No. She paused in her task of cleaning a berth to glance around the room at the grounders around her. There was intelligence here. She could see that these grounders were not _stupid._ However, on that same note, they excelled in a different way than Seekers did. A Seeker shared his or her knowledge with the other Seekers around them since most couldn't afford datapads, something that was far more expensive to make in Vos than in a grounder's city. Simply stated, a grounder had better access to the materials. Most Vosonians would never see a glass factory, as few Seekers had need for it. There really was no such thing as a window in Vos. The idea of being cut off from the sky… After all, what was the point of blocking off the sky with a pane of glass when you could simply allow the breeze inside? They had metal acid shields for whenever the weather turned south. That was all they needed. In addition to that, Vos had no mines that produced the specific metal that was used as the datapad frame. It was a kind of metal that was lightly ionized, yet had no magnetic field. Vosonian mines produced mainly earthy metals, jewels, and energon. The climate didn't allow for any naturally ionized metals to develop. Because of this, Seekers shared their knowledge with the whole, allowing mechs and femmes to go to a mentor any time they wanted to become educated on any specific thing.

These grounders, though… They didn't share that problem. She could tell that Chopshop had gone to an actual medical academy that had texts with images and explanations. There had been no learning on the spot with him. There had been no singular mentor for him. He had likely learned under the tutorship of many great teachers and medics. That would never happen in Vos. Seekers didn't go to a "school" to learn. They went to an elder mech or femme who had experience in whatever they wished to learn about.

"Cybertron to Torrent. You still alert, femme?" came Knockout's voice. Dewdrop blinked as she turned her gaze on Knockout, who looked rather irritated.

"Sorry," she apologized. "A lot has happened in the last few cycles. I'm still trying to adjust."

"Yes, you _have _had a rather long couple of cycles, _haven't_ you?" he said, a sneer in his voice, strangely enough. "Well, we're about done here. Why don't you go ahead and see that flybot leader of yours about your living quarters," the red mech suggested. Dewdrop shot him a dark look.

"Watch who you call 'flybot,' dirt-kisser. I won't let you insult my leader," she growled. Knockout narrowed his optics, but let the threat and the slur slide.

"Get," he snarled, and Dewdrop decided to oblige. She scowled down at him as she rose to her pedes and walked gracefully out the door. Rude ground-pounder.

* * *

The walk to Starscream's new office was a long one. As luck would have it, she only got lost once, but that one time was more difficult to deal with than was strictly necessary. None of the grounders she passed would help her. She would ask—and she wasn't even rude about it!—but the mechs would always glare or sneer or give her some other hateful look. She eventually gave up and started wandering around until she found the medbay again. From there, she started all over again.

If it wasn't the identical hallways that made her trip uneasy, then it was the other bots that would walk past. The first time that she had gone through the halls, back when she had both her trine mates to shield her, she had felt rather safe in her movements. Now, though… she could feel every lecherous look, every hateful glare. She hated the feeling of a mech walking too close to her, and she was disgusted when a mech ran a single finger down her wing as he passed, a low laugh taunting her as he walked by. She was in the Pit. Primus must have finally forsaken her. She yelped when a hand suddenly clamped down on the top of her wing, and she immediately wrenched herself away, ignoring the pain of sensitive plating being yanked off as she spun away from the offender.

"Careful, flybot," the black mech hummed as he stared at her with optics that looked intrigued and interested in a way that Dewdrop didn't even want to fathom. "Don't want you ta get hurt."

"Touch me again, and I'll show just why a Seekess is not to be trifled with," she snapped. The mech only chuckled at her, a foreboding smirk on his face.

"You're nothing without your trine, and I don't care what the higher ups say. None of you flybots is worth anything," he rumbled as he turned to walk away. "Watch your back, sky-hugger, or I'll end up clipping those wings."

Dewdrop scowled as she continued down the hall. She knew what this was. The grounders were finally working with the feared Seekers of Vos, and they all wanted to see if the rumors were true. They wanted to see if she'd claw out their optics if they touched her wings. They wanted to see if her trine would suddenly rear up to kill any offender that dared to approach her. Well, they were in for a surprise. Dewdrop had dealt with idiot mechs for many vorns, all thanks to her time at the oilhouse. She didn't need her trine mates to fight her battles for her; she was capable of fighting her own. That ground-pounder would regret it if he decided to harass her again.

With a sense of angry determination, she turned on her heel and continued down the hall toward Starscream's office. As she walked, she steamed over the ignorant, disgusting dirt-kissers she was stuck with for the duration of this war, but then… she felt a part of her spark crumbling. This was her life now. She slowed as she approached the office door, her processor ruminating on that thought.

Vos was gone. She was involved in a war. She was stuck with this army, with these grounders that she hated so much. There was no escape. There were no hiding places. All she had was a need to get justice. A need for justice and the love and support of her trine. Primus, what a piece of work she was, but then again, she was actually better off than many of the Seekers who had _nothing_ left, nothing but that justice. She, at the very least, still had Wingspot and Aerobatix.

"So are you going to stare at the door all cycle, or were you planning on knocking?" a voice from behind her questioned. She yelped in surprise as she whirled around to see Lord Starscream himself staring down at her in all his glory. Unlike her, he had obviously found the time to bathe, as his white, blue, and red armor was completely cleaned and waxed. His wings were raised with some sort of emotion, though Dewdrop could not fathom a guess at what, and his optics were dim with fatigue. Still, he maintained his proud demeanor. Whether Vos was standing tall or lying in ruin, he was still a prince and the Command Trine Leader.

"My apologies, my lord. I was lost in thought," she apologized, allowed her words to flow with the upper-class Vosonian language that she was taught to use around higher mechs and femmes.

"No need for apologies," Starscream stated as he reached around her to type in the code on the keypad of the door. The door hissed open, and Starscream gestured her in. Dewdrop bowed her head slightly in thanks before preceding her leader into the room. Starscream closed the door behind him before walking around her to his desk. "Now… why don't you tell me what happened to your wings while I repair them?" Stasrcream ordered, politely phrasing it as a suggestion. Dewdrop's wings sagged. Of course he _would_ notice the wrenched and missing plates while he was standing behind her outside. Fantastic. She was never one to disobey her leader, though, especially since he only had her good health in his mind. If she left her wing plating how it was, it would gather moisture and rust, never something one wanted on their frame, especially wings. Dewdrop strode quietly to his desk and seated herself on the edge, back facing him as he rooted around in his extensive subspace.

"So… what happened?" he asked as he administered a weak anesthetic to the base of her wings. Wing repairs, no matter how small, were always painful.

"Well… a mech came up behind me in the hallway earlier and… well… he grabbed my wings. I pulled away, but he was holding on so tight that he pulled some of the plating out of alignment," Dewdrop recounted hesitantly, never one to tell someone else her problems. Starscream's engine growled a little in her defense.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that," he stated angrily. "I will talk to Megatron about this, see if he can brief the crew on the fact that strangers touching wings is a Seeker taboo." There was silence for a few beats, the only sound being Starscream removing and replacing the small plates that made up Seeker wings. That was what made Seeker wings so different from non-Seeker wings, those plates. Non-Seeker flyers had wings made up of welded metal, whereas a Seeker's wing was made up of thousands of little metal plates, placed one-over-the-other like roof tiles. It was what made Seeker wings so sensitive to air currents and temperature readings. Seekers in general kept at least a thousand replacement plates in their subspace, being as they were small and easily transportable. Even if they weren't, though, Seekers would still have them to ensure that they retained their important ability to fly.

"May I speak freely, Lord Starscream?" Dewdrop asked hesitantly.

"Have you ever not?" Starscream responded blandly. Dewdrop snorted but continued.

"I don't like this. I… I feel that something is wrong. These Decepticons… their teachings, their philosophies feel wrong. I mean, I'm a medic, but I'm only allowed to administer painkillers and sedatives to the high-ranking bots. It doesn't matter if a mech has lost his leg or is gushing energon. And these mechs refuse to help us if we fall behind, choosing instead to kick us out… Are we really on the correct side, my lord?" Starscream sighed as he paused in his work.

"I find myself asking the same thing every joor that I spend with Megatron," Starscream admitted as he continued working on the femme's wings. "The fact still remains that it was very obviously the Autobots that felled Vos, and we have no way of knowing for sure just how the Autobots act. By what Megatron says, they are worse than the Decepticons are. They openly attack their grunts when there is a small mistake, and they brutalize their opponents, instead of giving them an honorable death. No, my Seekess, I believe that for the moment, we have chosen the right side, even if they don't exactly fly straight."

Dewdrop mulled over that as Starscream finished up her wings. The Autobots were worse than this? She grimaced at the thought. The Decepticons had not been kind to her, but if this was actually _good_ compared to the other side… No wonder there was a war. Grounders really _were_ barbarians.

"How is Glamour doing?" Starscream asked as he disposed of the bent wing plates and sat in his seat.

"Eject," Dewdrop ordered as she slid off his desk and sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. The armor on her shoulders disengaged, and Starscream watched as the two armor plates transformed as they floated away from her body. Gizmo immediately flew to Starscream's desk, where he landed gracefully and bowed lowly to his host's leader.

"Salutations, Lord Starscream. It is a pleasure to see you in good health after such a catastrophe," the navy blue drone stated, gaining a sad smile from said leader.

"Yes. The last few cycles have definitely been trying, to say the very least. How have you and your host been holding up?" Starscream questioned as he gazed down at the drone who was barely bigger than his hand. Gizmo grimaced as he fixed his red optics on the Seeker.

"She is having night horrors and has difficulty forgetting the carnage she witnessed in Vos during the attack. She also is mildly—"

"Gizmo!" Dewdrop barked flatly as she rubbed her optics. "He meant physically."

"Oh. She's—"

At that moment, Glamour completely transformed and jetted forward to hug Starscream's face. "My lord! You came to see me! I thought I'd never see you again because Dew was so sad, and I didn't want her to be sad anymore, and can you make her happy again?"

There was a few beats of silence as the two Seekers replayed Glamour's speedy speech slowly and Gizmo glared at his sister-drone for interrupting him. Again.

"It is a pleasure to see you as well, Glamour," Starscream stated warmly, ever amused by the small femme.

"Are we to rebuild Vos?" the femme drone asked as she floated backward, choosing to fly just a few inches in front of Starscream's face rather than remain attached to it. "Dew doesn't like it here, so I don't either."

"No," Starscream said, voice heavy with sadness. "We must fight for justice. Perhaps once we have won this war for the Decepticons, we can work to rebuild what we have lost, but if we were to rebuild now… I fear another attack would wipe away what we strive to achieve. We are safer where we are." Glamour frowned at that remark, looking terribly close to tears.

"It's okay, Glam," Dewdrop assured her. "With the Seekers' assistance, the other side will be overcome soon enough." The baby blue drone smiled up at her host before regaining her cheerful manner.

"So what're we doing here?" she chirped.

"Mistress Dewdrop wished to receive her quarters assignment," Gizmo interjected easily. Glamour's optics widened as she landed in front of her twin.

"How did you _know_ that?" she questioned, in awe of her brother's seemingly psychic knowledge. Gizmo huffed at his sister's inanity.

"If you actually paid attention to Mistress's thoughts when you were linked up, perhaps you would hold the same knowledge of her thoughts and reasons as I." Glamour blinked and was about to reply, but was cut off by Starscream.

"These are your trine's quarters. I spoke to Megatron, and he allowed us to use the rooms meant for bonded couples. The regular rooms would have been far too small for a trine. You and your trine will report to the practice rooms mid-solar cycle, and you will begin your combat training," Starscream stated. "I will message your trine leader to inform him of all of this. Enjoy your evening and morning with your trine, dear spark. Take some time to heal and relax. You appear to need it."

Dewdrop accepted the datapad as Starscream handed it to her, and she hesitantly rose to her pedes. She bowed to her prince and turned to the door. She made it about halfway across the room before she paused.

"My lord… Have any of the other Seekesses been having problems with the mechs here?" she asked. Starscream shook his helm.

"They have not reported them. I will be sure to contact any trine leaders that have femmes in their trines. They might not be reporting the harassment," Starscream responded, and Dewdrop couldn't argue that. After all, if Starscream hadn't seen her wing damage, she wouldn't have reported it either. Something about being harassed by a _grounder_… it made her feel weak.

"Very well, good joor, my lord," she said in farewell as she exited the room with her two drones floating after her. Starscream sighed as he watched her go.

"Good joor, indeed. Stay safe, Dewdrop. I know not what evil we have been swallowed by," Starscream mumbled, spark heavy with thoughts. He wanted to do well by his Seekers. He thought that revenge on the ones that attacked Vos would sooth their sparks, but he was beginning to think he made the wrong decision… He would have to start putting together a contingency plan, a plan of escape just in case he was wrong.

* * *

The trip to the rec room was relatively uneventful, thank Primus. The mechs that she passed only glared at her, and that was only until she ran into another trine's leader, who had offered to take her the rest of the way to the rec room. Dewdrop had gratefully accepted. Just before they entered the rec room, Dewdrop called her two drones to reconnect to her frame, not wanting to take the chance of some grounder grabbing one of them to experiment on.

The rec room was crowded, but not so much that she couldn't find a table. Not that she needed to, anyways. Across the room, Aerobatix suddenly stood up and started waving his arms in Dewdrop's direction. The femme rolled her optics as she moved through the crowd carefully, avoiding any shoulders as she approached the table. It was a relatively small four-seat table. Dewdrop gratefully sank into the chair beside Aero with a groan. Across the room, Dewdrop could sense that Wingspot was getting their evening rations. Dewdrop wondered idly if she would be able to survive the next few orns on such little energon. While two cubes of energon a solar cycle was enough for a grounder, the grade of the energon was not pure enough or high enough to support a Seeker.

**/I swear, if that mech looks at you again, I'll tear his optics out/** Aero suddenly snarled through the bond. Dewdrop jolted a little at the unexpected statement and glanced around in worry that her harassment mech was in the room. She didn't see him, though.

**/Have you noticed that the only femmes on base are Seekers?/** Wingspot questioned, a sense of concern floating through the bond.

**/Actually, yeah. There weren't any nurses in the medbay/** Dewdrop responded as she watched Wingspot sit down with three cubes in his hand. Dewdrop immediately pulled some spices out of her subspace. She reached over and enhanced the three cubes without being asked and returned the closed spices to subspace. Aerobatix grimaced as he grabbed one of the cubes.

**/Well… bottoms up?/**

**/I would suggest you sip/** Dewdrop returned, her spark sending him a sense of warning. Aero grimaced as he put the energon cube to his lip components, them froze after he took a drink.

**/Huh. Not too bad…/**

**/Thank you, Aero. I try/ **Dewdrop replied, speaking through the trine bond since she wasn't sure she would be heard over the din of the rec room. Even if the other Decepticons refused to talk to the Seekers, they apparently had no qualms over speaking to other grounders.

**/I believe it comes naturally. You have talent, that is for certain/**

**/Aw, thanks, Wing! So… what did you do today?/ **Wingspot grimaced at the question.

**/I met my department head and my mentor, a mech known as Scrapper. Rude fragger. They decided to rename me "Wingblade" as my name was not… intimidating enough/**

**/Ah. Don't stress it. They renamed me Torrent. Apparently, my department head doesn't like yelling wussy names like "Dewdrop" in his medbay. The mech kind of freaks me out/**

**/Well, they let me keep my name, cuz I'm awesome!/** Both Dewdrop and Wingspot rolled their optics at this, though both secretly enjoyed the familiarity of the easy banter. It made it easier to ignore the events past.

**/How was the medbay?/** Wingspot asked, quick to keep the conversation on track. They could joke once they were in the privacy of their room. He wasn't so sure their playful laughs and jeers would be accepted here.

**/I think learning will be interesting, but as for the actual medbay atmosphere… I'm not too sure. The CMO, Chopshop… he doesn't seem to like anybot. He said that he wouldn't hesitate to kick somebot out if they didn't catch on fast enough. I don't think he likes me, either…/**

**/**_**Ridiculous**_**. Who wouldn't like **_**you**_**?/**

**/Shut up, Aero. Nobot likes you either/**

**/I'm hurt! I'll have you know that the mech I work for, Strikenote, treats everybot the same: like slag. It's not personal/**

**/So, if we were to compare our experiences… we all have rude, borderline cruel department heads. What if you get an injury?/**

**/Well… I don't really get hurt. I just fetch stuff and deliver stuff. Strike said that any injuries would be our own fault, and we should take care of them/**

**/Same with me. Knockout said that since we're medics, we should be able to take care of our own problems/**

**/Knockout?/ **Wingspot frowned as he looked at his third.

**/Yeah. Each Seeker got a specific trainer. Mine is a vain grounder named Knockout/**

**/Ah. Well, if I get hurt, I'm not supposed to stop work unless the injury gets in the way, which means I do not stop unless I'm gushing energon/**

**/Primus. Well, it's probably better that way. Only the high-ranking get sedatives, painkillers, or anesthesia/**

**/**_**Really?**_** Frag, I'm not sure if I like this place, Wing. Bad medical service, bad energon, no femmes, and a bunch of mechs that glare/**

**/Yes. Speaking of those mechs, Starscream contacted me and informed me that you were assaulted…? Care to explain why I was notified by my leader rather than my trine member?/**

**/I—/**

Dewdrop was cut off—saved even—by movement in her peripheral vision. She glanced to her right just in time to see a black and red grounder mech with a bright red visor saunter up to their table. He gave the femme a winning smile before seating himself in the only empty seat at the table: next to Wingspot and across from Dewdrop.

"Sup. Mah name's Meister," the mech introduced cheerfully. The trine mates exchanged glances before turning their gazes to the smaller bot.

"And we care…?" Aerobatix asked, his tone implying that the grounder was unwelcome and stupid for assuming he _was_ welcome. Meister's smile turned into a playful frown.

"Now, tha's jus' rude. We on the same side, mech!" Aero's optics narrowed.

"Look, ground-pounder, we're only here because those Autobots decided to torch our city. We're not here to be your _buddies,"_ he snarled.

"Aerobatix, that is enough," Wingspot ordered, glancing over at their third, who winced at the reminder of their loss. The Seekers were certain the grounder did not notice the reaction, though.

"An' hold back on those slurs, too. I ain't called you a sky-hugger yet, so don' call me a ground-pounder," the black mech hissed.

"Why are you here? I was under the impression that all grounders despised Seekers," Wingspot broke in before Aero could snap at the mech for giving him an order.

"Curiosity."

"Do we look like science experiments? Frag off, grounder," Aero cut in harshly. Meister frowned, then pointedly ignored the mech seated diagonally from him, choosing instead to focus on the femme in front of him.

"Might I have the pleasure of knowin' your name?" the mech asked with a charming smile. Dewdrop frowned at him.

"Torrent," she responded flatly, despite her second's protests through the bond. Wingspot's silent support outweighed Aero's anger. Her trine leader was curious about this mech, too. Curious and concerned. He didn't want any of these mechs to have any interest in their trine.

_"Torr~ent,"_ the grounder repeated. "Pretty, but it doesn't seem ta fit."

"You got a problem with my name?" she hissed. Meister held up his hands in surrender.

"Naw, I jus' think it don' fit ya. Some bots say the same 'bout meh. Lotta us got new designations after joinin' up," he confided. Dewdrop hummed in agreement.

"Perhaps, but you have no right to my true name." Meister shrugged.

"Guess not."

"Why are you here?" Aero snapped. "Go annoy some other Seeker." Meister grinned.

"You were the closest. 'Sides, where's the fun in tha'?" he responded with a grin. Still, he rose to his pedes. "A word t' the wise, though. You ain' workin' for the reasons you think ya are, an' not ev'rythin' is as it seems."

The three Seekers exchanged glances before turning back to the grounder, only to find that he was gone. Dewdrop frowned, the mech's words growing that seed of doubt that had been planted by Wingspot earlier in the cycle when he read the protocols. But… why would he say something like that…? Why would he want them to doubt their cause? They were fighting for justice on the ones that destroyed their city… right? How could they be wrong in that?

"Well, that was strange…" Wingspot finally noted, glancing over at his trine with a confused expression.

"Yeah… Can we go? I'm feeling claustrophobic," Dewdrop requested, the lie easily sliding through her mouth. She allowed her unease to flow through the bond, but it was not caused by the enclosed space. She was tired of the confusing contradictions she seemed to encounter any time she was around a Decepticon grounder. She couldn't figure it out, and she was honestly tired of trying. She needed rest. She needed time to think. Most of all, she needed time alone with her trine. She missed their abode, and she longed to take a trip to their nest. She couldn't do that anymore. She'd have to get _permission_ now.

"C'mon, Dew," Aero said with a small frown as he rose to his pedes.

"Go ahead to our quarters. I will meet you there shortly," Wingspot stated as he stood and gathered up the empty energon cubes. Dewdrop frowned. She hadn't even noticed she had finished hers. She must have finished it while they spoke through the bond. She had been extremely low, after all.

"Let's go, Dee," Aero hummed as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to her pedes. She leaned against him, savoring the physical contact as they strode through the room, Aero shoving away anybot who moved close with his free hand. **/I'll keep you safe/** he hummed through the bond, sending her his protective love as they exited the room, leaving behind quite a few pissed off Decepticons. Not that he cared. He wasn't here to make friends.

Dewdrop was silent as they walked down the hall, pointedly forcing her thoughts to be blank as they moved past weary mechs, all heading to their own private quarters. Aero remained beside her, arm wrapped protectively around her waist as he glared at the mechs he passed. Whatever respect he had gained for grounders from that Bulkhead mech from Tarn had obviously diminished over the last few cycles, and while Dewdrop wasn't sure what had caused such a chang —perhaps it had something to do with her… harassment?—she found that she liked the change. It was nice to have somebot who shared her views on grounders: they were all primal scum.

The two trine mates turned down the hall that held their quarters, and both gave a sigh of relief. Seekers walked through the halls, knocking on doors to acquaint themselves with their neighbors and communicating in Seekanth in the hallway. Dewdrop felt her wings rise with her joyful emotions as she listened to the familiar sounds of whirring and whining turbines and growling and rumbling engines. It was like walking through a hall in their abode collection. A few Seekers waved at Dewdrop and Aero as they approached their door, and the two trine mates waved back, Dewdrop's being a bit more enthusiastic than her trine mate's.

**/Get the door/** Aero requested as they stopped by their assigned quarters. Dewdrop looked up at him with a small smile as she pulled the datapad from subspace and quickly downloaded the lock code wirelessly. She unlocked the door just as a sooty pale orange and red mech trotted over to them, a smaller blue and white femme following after him.

**/Go on inside. I can see you don't feel like being social/** Dewdrop suggested, a smile on her face. Aero gave the two Seekers a calculating look before nodding and walking inside.

"Good joor," the orange mech greeted as he approached. "I am trine leader Sunflare. This is Skyhigh, my second."

"Greetings. I am trine left wing Dewdrop," the ex-bar femme responded.

"A rainmaker?" Sunflare questioned with a strange gleam in his optic. Dewdrop smiled as she nodded.

"I lost my third in the attack. You are compatible with us," Sunflare stated, flaring his spark field to prove the fact. Dewdrop blinked as she felt the weak tugging in her spark and tingling in her wing base that told her that she could successfully trine with the two bots before her. However, her trining protocols in her processor remained offline.

"My trine mates survived the Vosonian Massacre," Dewdrop stated, her words causing both Seekers to immediately step back, wings drooping.

"I see. My apologies, then, for requesting such a thing," Sunflare responded sincerely. "We had hoped to find a third before tomorrow's trining event."

"Those grounders will all be there!" Skyhigh suddenly exclaimed, sounding angry, embarrassed, and scared all at once. "It is a Seeker tradition, and all those grounders will be in there, staring at us as we try to find a third!" Dewdrop frowned.

"I had not heard," she admitted. Sunflare scowled.

"Starscream and Megatron called a meeting for those with broken trines and said that the trining would take place in the largest training room early next solar cycle," Sunflare stated. "The trining will take place on half of the training arena, while the other half will be used for the grounders' combat training."

"And Starscream said nothing?" Dewdrop questioned.

"He said that we had no right to upset the Decepticons' training patterns, seeing as they are being so gracious in allowing us to stay at all," Skyhigh spat. Dewdrop's frown deepened. She had expected the trining to be held in private. While the trining ceremony was not considered a private event—the only thing the Seekers do there is fly around until a trine leader chooses them for their trine—it was still a privately held tradition. Even trined Seekers were not allowed to attend such an event, only non-trined. Dewdrop had never gone to one as Wingspot and Aero had chosen her in the streets of Vos when they saw her in the marketplace.

"And after the trining?" Dewdrop questioned. Sunflare vented.

"Starscream has given us the following solar and lunar cycles to form and become accustomed to the new bond and the new trine. Still… I would have much preferred to be in my nest for something like this," the mech said blankly, and Dewdrop completely agreed. Forming a trine bond was not the same as forming a spark bond—the sparks never actually touch. It was yet another thing that made Seekers so special: they could bond with another without the physical interaction, the only action necessary is to get the sparks close enough that they can imprint on the other's signal. It was something grounders and non-Seekers couldn't understand. After all, _they_ had to merge sparks to form a spark bond. Seekers only needed the trining protocols and the right bot to form such a bond with. On that same note, though, it was still considered a private event, and the newly trined normally stayed in their nest for the next orn or so to strengthen the bond through their nearness alone. After all, if a mech were to encounter a newly trined bot that was compatible with their trine, the budding trine bond could easily be broken if it was not strengthened.

"Try not to think about it. The grounders won't understand what's going on, and really, all you're doing is sky dancing in hopes of attracting an optic. Nothing perverse at all," Dewdrop assured them, trying to make them feel better about their situation.

"Yes, but the grounders won't know that!" Skyhigh argued. "They'll probably think we're doing some sort of dirty mating flight!" Dewdrop couldn't help it. She laughed out loud at that thought, earning a scowl from the femme and an amused look from the mech.

"You shouldn't worry about that! They don't matter anyways," Dewdrop stated when her laughter died down. "When you wake up solar cycle after next, your trine will be whole again, and everything will only get better from there." Skyhigh stared at the femme before her with hope in her wide red optics.

"How can you be so positive?" she whispered, tears welling in her optics. Dewdrop gave her a sad smile.

"I'm not positive. I'm quite the opposite actually," she responded, her voice melancholy. "I watched my city fall, and I looked on the faces of the dead. I don't think it can get any worse than this."

"Yes, things can only go up," Wingspot repeated as he walked up behind his third. "Come, Dew. Let's rest. We have training next solar cycle." Dewdrop smiled up at her leader before turning her gaze back to the other trine.

"Thank you for the offer. I wish you well in the trining next solar cycle," Dewdrop stated. Sunflare smiled and nodded his farewell as Wingspot herded his third into the room.

"Neighbors?" Wingspot questioned once the door had closed behind them. Dewdrop nodded.

"They were in search for a third. We were compatible," she responded. Wingspot growled as he stepped forward to wrap his arms around his third protectively, tucking his helm against her neck.

"They can't have you," he stated. Dewdrop frowned, looking at him over her shoulder.

"You're awful clingy, Wing. Has something happened?" she questioned, her tone worried.

"Thundercracker released the list of missing Seekers," Aerobatix announced as he walked through a door near the back of the room. That must have been their berthroom. From what she could see, they were in a greeting room of sorts, though there was no furniture that would attest to that fact.

"Already?" Dewdrop questioned, grimacing as she watched Wingspot walk around her to look in her optics.

"It's not like it was hard. Just take the list with the population names and mark off the mechs and femmes they found alive. There are only about a hundred survivors," Aero stated with a scowl.

"They will make a few more trips to Vos, searching for any missed nest sites, but… Starscream says that there's not much to hope for," Wingspot stated.

"Was there _ever_ anything to hope for?" Dewdrop questioned as she moved through the empty room, past both of her trine mates to the back room that Aero had exited. It was, indeed, a berthroom. The berth was large enough for two bots, but the room was large enough that if they pushed the berth up against the far wall, they could cuddle up together on the floor. It wouldn't be the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was preferable to leaving one trine member to recharge away from the other two.

"Dew… you know things will get better, right? We're at the bottom right now, but thing _will_ start to look up," Wingspot assured her as he walked up behind her.

"But _when_? I want to go home. I want to see Quality, Kip, Rifflock, and Airstream again. I want to be able to wake up next cycle and find out that this was all a horrible night terror. I want my life back. I want _Vos_," she said, her voice growing staticky as she spoke. Wingspot put an arm around her shoulders.

"We _will_ get our lives back, Dew. You just have to have patience. Give yourself a chance to heal. Give us a chance to win this war. Then we can go home."

Dewdrop didn't respond as she allowed her trine mates to lead her to the far corner of the berthroom, far enough from the door that the mechs would have a chance to defend themselves should someone enter and at an angle that they could see partially through the door into the empty greeting room. Wingspot and Aero left Dewdrop to sit down against the wall as they moved the berth, then they joined her there, curling up around her as the exhaustion from the cycle caught up with them and forced them offline. As Dewdrop basked in the warmth of her trine's bond, she couldn't help but think about the future and the "what ifs" that came along with that. So little was certain now. So much had changed. She couldn't be certain of much, but of one thing she was certain: nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

**Deception is Decepticon:** Thank you very much! I'm hoping it picks up a few more fans as it picks up steam. I put quite a bit of effort into it, striving for longer chapters and such.

**Crescentrax:** I'm sorry! XD It was kind of a sad chapter to write. Such is war, right? Don't worry, though! Things will look up for our new trine… sorta… Maybe.

**PenNameNine:** Thank you very much for the compliments. I had tons of fun writing my newest OCs, especially Aero. Guy's so cute. X3 I hope to keep you enthralled as the story goes.

* * *

So yeah. Sad day, right? Review, my friends


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